


Shadows of the past

by The_flabbergasting_blobb_of_fluffyness



Series: After the end [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Blood and Violence, Established Relationship, Evil Scientists - Freeform, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I can't do tags, M/M, Mentioned Iris Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum Lives, Post-Canon, Promptis - Freeform, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, basically Niffs being dicks, bros being bros, why is Prompto always the one that has to suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:33:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_flabbergasting_blobb_of_fluffyness/pseuds/The_flabbergasting_blobb_of_fluffyness
Summary: After surviving the Long Night and settling into a new life at Noct's side, Prompto has to find that shaking off the demons of his past is harder than he thought. And when they are coming for him, they threaten to destroy the happiness he found for himself.Noct is growing into his role as king, but when Prompto comes back from a job troubled and haunted, he has to find that his power can't help him save the one he loves from his personal shadows.//This is a follow-up to 'After the end, there is always something else'. Reading that one first is recommended, but not necessary in order to follow the plot.\\
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum, Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: After the end [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586425
Comments: 54
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The plan was to write something not related to FF XV, so now I'm writing about Promptis again because of course I do. And because I can't leave a perfectly good ending alone. So, have fun.
> 
> Tags will be updated as I go. I'll try to post new chapters regularly, but since this is the first time for me to post a work that isn't all written down yet please don't kill me if I need a bit more time.

The sun was burning down on the road as if it wanted to make up for its ten years of absence. While it was a nice sentiment, Prompto didn’t quite appreciate the sunburn spreading over his neck and shoulders that made the soft rustle of his shirt’s fabric feel like sandpaper grating over his skin. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and pulled over the car. The door handle was so hot he almost expected it to melt and stick to his fingers like tar when he climbed out of the vehicle. His clothes were sweaty and full of sand since he couldn’t have passed up the opportunity to open the convertible’s roof and enjoy the wind in his hair on his way through the dust bowl that was Leide. Prompto patted the dark blue hood of his ride affectionately as he moved to the trunk, ignoring the way the searing heat threatened to burn his fingertips extra crispy. He had really taken a liking to the car – the Regalia would forever remain his first love on four wheels, but this one was _his._ It also had been a present from Noct. Well, not so much of a present but a necessary tool for his job, but he wasn’t picky. The sentiment was still the same.

He dug out his camera and set it up on the hill overlooking Galding Quay. The road was snaking down from where he stood towards the beach, the rocky cliffs to the sides cradled the bay with its palm trees and the elegant yet cosy buildings, the rugged outline of Angelgard rose on the horizon like a time-worn crown. Everything seemed as it had been when he had first set eyes on it years ago. The Quay had filled with life again during the last 18 months. After the beach had been cleared of rubble and the occasional corpse, it had almost regained its old charm. The rebuilding of the hotel and restaurant had done the rest, even though it had served as more of an emergency housing station in the first few months after the Dawn. But by now, Galdin Quay had turned into a tourist attraction once more, as far as tourism went just a year and a half after the apocalypse – this time not only because of the beautiful view and the delicious food, but also because of its reputation as the spot where the Chosen King had first set foot on Lucian soil again after his ten year sleep. Prompto quickly snapped a few pictures to add to his collection documenting the settlement’s progress – and then a few more just for himself to capture the scenery - and hopped back into the car. He was ready for a bed and some shut-eye, stat.

The shop clerk in the little kiosk recognized him instantly as he pulled into the parking lot down by the beach and strolled towards his booth. The man greeted him with a nod and handed him the keys to the caravan. The prices at the hotel were still horrendous and even if Prompto would have been able to pay them by now without putting much of a dent in his budget, he still preferred an alternative with a price tag that didn’t make him feel faint.

‚Back for another check-up?‘, the clerk asked him in a broad accent. The leathery skin of his face was crinkled and a large scar split his forehead in two. There were more people with scars around now – no matter how idyllic and untouched the Quay might look, the people still wore the traces of the Long Night on their skin and in their eyes.

‚Yeah.‘ Prompto picked up the keys and pushed a few gil over the counter. ‚But from the look of things, it’ll be the last for a while. You guys have been busy.‘

The clerk took the compliment with a shrug and a little grin. ‚Just everyone doin‘ their part. But sad to see ya go, kid.‘

Prompto chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck – and pulled his hand away with a wince when his sun-burned skin protested against the rough treatment.

‚I’ll be sure to come back for a vacation.‘

‚You better.‘

He waved the clerk goodbye and went to grab his bags out of the trunk. He was excited to be on the road and tired of it in the same measure. In the first few months after taking up his new job for the Crown he had spend most of his time travelling around, documenting the damage of the last ten years so Noct and the Council back in Insomnia knew what they had to work with. After that, he had started to do regular tours across the continent to check on the progress and report it back to the Crown City. It was good work, and crossing settlements like Galdin off the list felt like a victory, a proof of some normality returning. But still, he was aching for his own bed back in Insomnia, for his gaming console and his favourite burger place. For seeing Noct again, who had already started spamming his phone with bored texts and chocobo-emojis.

Once he had reached the caravan, he dedicated a total of 60 seconds to the task of stowing away his bags and checking the food stock before collapsing on the bed. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the approximately one million text messages from Noct. He really wanted to read them, but the soft bed he was lying on reminded his body of all the hours he had spent on the road today, and every single one of his limbs seemed to have turned to concrete. So he settled for a selfie of his flushed face, hair sweaty and sticking up at all the weird angles, and hit the send-button.

[Prom] Write u tomorrow. Am dead.

[Noct] You look like shit. Maybe shower first?

[Prom] D E A D

[Noct] Don’t die before writing that report or Specs will kill you even deader

[Prom] I h8 u

[Noct] No you don’t

...

[Noct] Ignoring me?

[Noct] Rude

...

[Noct] Still awake?

[Prom] No

[Noct] Sleep faster. I miss you

[Prom] Miss u 2

[Prom] Now shut up. Guy’s gotta get his beauty sleep.

[Noct] That’s a lost cause

...

[Noct] Good night, Prom

[Noct] Love you

[Prom] STOP SPAMMING ME

...

[Prom] Love you too

***

The first thing Prompto noticed when waking up was the lack of a warm body next to him. The second was the raging boner straining against the fabric of his jeans. The first he couldn’t do much about until he was back in the Crown City, which meant he had to take care of the second as soon as possible so he could get his work finished and get on the road again. Right, of course this was _totally_ about work and not at all about the way his body was still very much caught up in the deliciously vivid dream he’d had. He figured that after going to bed in his dirty street clothes, the sheets were beyond hope anyway; so he didn’t bother to move to the bathroom before pushing his pants down until they were bunched up around his thighs, palming his erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. Then he dove back into the memories still floating around in his head, memories of long fingers tracing over his back, of hot breath tickling his neck and a wicked tongue exploring the lines of his chest, his abdomen, roaming lower and lower...

When he was done, he resisted the urge to do more than just a quick catlick until after he came back from his morning run, encrusted in a whole new layer of sweat and sand. He stumbled into the shower with his lungs still stinging from running along the beach and put on his last set of clean clothes after. Sitting outside the caravan with his aching legs propped up on the camping table and eating a balanced breakfast of cold canned ravioli, the warm wind tousling his damp hair, he finally felt like a human again. He got up and stretched, trying to ignore the burn on his shoulders and neck where his skin had started to peel off. Prompto had never been one for cold and snow – and even less so after his last adventure involving both – but right now, he could really have gone for some winter wonderland or whatever. Or just a clouded sky. But the weather was as beautiful as it could be, the sun burning down mercilessly without a cloud in sight. He downed a bottle of water, letting some of the cool liquid trickle over his neck and face, and got to work.

Most of the people working in Galdin Quay knew him well enough by now. Their initial weariness at his visits had faded away after he had assured them that he wasn’t here to poke his nose in their business any deeper than they’d let him, or to find reasons to cut the financial help they got from the Crown. Now they seemed glad to see him instead, scenting an opportunity to boast with their progress. And their progress was considerable, regarding the fact that there hadn’t been anything but empty ruins here just little more than a year ago. The only other settlement with similar accomplishments to speak of was Insomnia itself, the very heart of the rebuilding effort. The residents of the Quay were very much aware of that fact, and their pride was showing when they answered Prompto’s questions and pointed him towards the newest additions to the resort so he could snap his pictures. With their help he was done by noon when the sun had started to beat down on him with a whole new level of fury. He had just stashed away his camera in the caravan and fled into the shadow of the palm trees lining the beach when he was distracted by another of the Quay’s residents.

[Prom] OOO EM GEEEH

[Noct] Morning <3

[Noct] Whazzup?

[Prom] I am the Chosen

[Noct] ?

[Prom] Bro

[Prom] I’m in love

[Prom] I just met the most beautiful creature on Eos

[Prom] ~ LOVE ~

[Noct] I’m heartbroken

[Prom] *Pic*

[Prom] Look at it. It’s like the fluffiest cat I’ve seen in my life.

[Prom] LOOK AT IT!!!

[Prom] hskflsfhsfeklsefj

[Noct] I take back everything. Cutest thing ever!!

[Noct] I give you my blessing. It deserves you way more than I do

[Prom] IT CLIMBED ON MY LAP!!!

[Noct] can’t blame it

[Prom] ITS SO FLUFFY!!!!

[Prom] it’s trying to eat my shoe??

[Noct] maybe it’s hungry?

[Prom] Y are there only hungry cats in Galdin? There’s fish EVERYWHERE

[Noct] Raw's not good enough. Give it real food

[Prom] like fancy gourmet cat food?

[Noct] Yes. It deserves all the fancy gourmet cat food

[Noct] You’ll get the money back. Important travel expenses

[Prom] Bro

[Prom] Bro ur the best <3

[Noct] I know

[Noct] Now feed that cat

[Prom] As my king commands

...

[Prom] as soon as it gets up from my lap

***

Almost half an hour later Prompto was standing in the Mother of Pearl, his pants full of cat hair. The chef greeted him with a warm smile as he slipped on one of the bar stools.

‘Hey there, uh... you used to make reeeally fancy cat food here, like... almost twelve years ago. Any chance I could still get some of that?’

The chef raised her eyebrows, but then she laughed with genuine delight.

‘Not your everyday request, but I’ll see what I can do!’

Prompto got a drink while he waited, mostly so he wouldn’t look like a complete idiot sitting at the bar. Also his throat felt like sandpaper, despite him chugging one bottle of water after the other the whole day. He let his eyes wander over the people in the restaurant to keep himself occupied. There wasn’t much going on, most of the tables would fill only later in the evening. There was a couple making doe-eyes at one another while ignoring the waiter that desperately tried to take their order; an older man dressed in flower print silently ranting to himself; a family, the parents watching their children run around the restaurant with tired resignation; and... huh.

Prompto hesitated and tried to get a better look at the group of men that was seated in the corner, almost hidden from his view. Their functional clothes were well-worn and full of dust, their faces weathered. They didn’t talk much but observed their surroundings in glum silence, sharp eyes tracking every movement around them. In the elegant establishment, they stood out like a striped chocobo. Which wasn’t surprising – hunters never did well in cultivated settings. What gave Prompto pause however was the fact that he was pretty sure he had seen them just a few days ago in another town. Saxham Outpost? Old Lestallum? It was hard to say, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that those were the same men he had noticed before. They had given him the creeps back then, too - with the way they lingered in the background, trying to act normal until... there. One of the hunters raised his head and stared right at him with narrowed eyes. When he met Prompto’s gaze, he leaned across the table with what was supposed to be a casual gesture, only to whisper something to his colleagues. There was a prickling sensation clinging to his back as Prompto turned away, trying his best to ignore them. As if he could feel their eyes on his skin. He told himself that he was overreacting, that those were probably different people and even if they weren’t – there was no way they had followed _him_ almost halfway across the continent. Why would they? No, it was just some random group of hunters that had for some reason decided to frequent both a run-down Crow’s Nest in the middle of nowhere and the most exclusive and costly restaurant in all of Leide, both at exactly the same time as he did. Nothing to be concerned about.

He had never been very good at lying to himself.

Their eyes followed him when he finally got up and strolled towards the boardwalk, his hand clutching the plate with the most expensive cat food Eos had ever seen. He believed to hear the sound of chairs being moved, the thud of heavy boots on wooden planks.

_Don’t turn around. You’re being ridiculous._

He somehow made it to the palm trees, his shoulders stiff and his jaw set, and collapsed into the sand. The cat hadn’t moved from its spot in the shade. It greeted him with a deep purr, its big green eyes tracking his movements as he set the plate on the ground between them. As soon as he pulled his hand back, the animal pounced and started to gobble down the food happily. Engrossed in the view, Prompto almost managed to shrug off his tension. Until a shadow fell on him and a deep voice asked ‘Prompto Argentum?’

He jumped with a yelp, scrambling to his feet. In front of him loomed one of the hunters, the one that had stared at him back at the restaurant. He was almost a head taller than Prompto and a lot broader. The only reason he didn’t back off on instinct was that this guy still had nothing on Gladio. That didn’t help to calm down his racing heart though.

‘Y-yeah?’, he squeaked. Damn his voice for still making him sound like a sixteen-year-old. Or, in this case, a pubescent bat.

The hunter bared his teeth in something resembling a smile. Prompto noted that his buddies were lingering around at the beach, watching them intently.

‘Well look at that!’, the man roared. ‘Didn’t think to find a fellow hunter between all those fancypants.’ He clapped the blonde’s shoulder in a jovial gesture. ‘Why don’t you come have a drink with your colleagues?’

_Stay cool. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re overreacting._

The bad feeling in his gut grew stronger, turning his insides until he felt sick.

‘I... uh... I’m not really a hunter anymore... A-and I have, uhm, work to do. Right. Work.’

He tried to twist away from the other man, but he just wrapped a meaty arm around his shoulders and gave him a subtle push towards his friends.

‘Don’t worry, not gonna call you out on quitting. C’mon, it’s not every day we meet someone who stood beside the Dawn King in the fight for the Crown City.’

_They could’ve heard that from anyone. No reason to be suspicious._

‘Heh...ehrm... thanks, guys, really... but...’

‘Don’t make me beg, pal.’ The hunter pulled a face in mock hurt. ‘Just a drink or two. One of the guys there has been fangirling since we saw you in that diner back in Cleigne. And now we happened to run into you again...’

Prompto really doubted the fangirling-part. None of the rugged men seemed to be the fangirling-type, especially not over some scrawny dude half their size. But maybe they really _were_ just some hunters that wanted to have a chat and hear first-hand gossip about the battle in Insomnia. Maybe.

If they weren’t, it might be useful to find out what they were after.

The bad feeling kept gnawing away at his guts and he really wished he had taken the gun from his car.

***

[Noct] Is the feline satisfied?

...

[Noct] Prom? Status update

...

[Noct] Ignoring me again? I see

[Noct] Well, two can play this game

...

...

[Noct] Dude, am dying of boredom here

...

...

[Noct] How does it take three hours to feed one cat?

[Noct] A fluffy cat

...

[Noct] Dude?

[Noct] Bro?

[Noct] Chocobutt?

...

[Noct] Light of my life?

...

[Noct] Seriously

...

[Prom] Sry, got sidetracked...

[Prom] On my way home

[Noct] What? Already?

[Noct] Not that I would complain

[Noct] U ok though?

...

[Noct] Prom?

...

...

[Noct] Prompto?

...

...

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I really look forward to your feedback (and this time I'll try to make my lazy ass reply to your comments too, since they always make my day!)
> 
> I also wish all of you amazing people a great start into the new year!


	2. Chapter 2

Noct waited a full minute after the altissian envoy had left the room before he slumped down in his chair with a heavy sigh. He ignored Ignis’ disapproving frown as he rubbed his eyes.

‘Please tell me we’re done for today.’

His advisor seemed to go through his mental notes for a moment, the he nodded. ‘We are. I would like to discuss the press report we spoke of earlier, but it is not an urgent matter.’

‘Might want to wait for our scout to come back for that one, anyway’, Gladio threw in as he abandoned his post behind them and strolled towards the table in the centre of the room.

‘Yeah.’ Noct stared at the polished tabletop for a moment, his fingernail tapping on the wood. Then he pulled out his phone. No new messages. He clicked his tongue in annoyance before he stuffed the phone back in his pocket and rose to his feet quickly enough that his chair almost toppled over. Without a further glance at Ignis and Gladio, he stormed out of the room.

His friends caught up to him in the corridor, on his way to his apartment. So far, he had dismissed every suggestion to channel more resources into the reconstruction of the Citadel. There were more pressing matters that needed their attention than getting fancier accommodations for the Court. Also – even if he would never admit it – the thought of returning to his childhood home made him nervous. The last time he had set foot in it – in the _real_ Citadel, not the nightmare version Ardyn had turned it into – everything had been so very different. He had been so ignorant. So naive.

But for now, the Citadel remained empty and abandoned and they had settled into a large apartment complex that was suited well enough to house what was left of the government - for now. The citizens had taken to call it the ‘New Palace’ with equal parts affection and irony. Noctis had an apartment in a more secluded area of the complex, as did Ignis and Gladio. Prompto’d had one too, but as soon as some of the city’s residential areas had become inhabitable again, he had insisted on finding a place of his own. He wasn't exactly comfortable hanging around what was basically a government facility in his alone-time, and he was happy about being able to provide for himself. Noct understood the feeling - and Prompto still pretty much lived in his apartment whenever both of them were off duty, so he didn’t mind that their homes were three streets apart.

But now Prompto was on the other side of the continent. And he wasn’t answering his phone.

He clenched his fists until his fingernails cut into his palms uncomfortably and quickened his pace.

Ignis frowned and inclined his head in his direction while they were walking. ‘You Majesty’, he said calmly. Noct had long since given up on sighing or rolling his eyes whenever he called him that outside of formal meetings. It was a lost battle. He had settled for Ignis dropping the royal protocol as soon as they were behind closed doors in one of their apartments.

‘Your Majesty’, Ignis said again, a touch more urgent this time. ‘Is there something bothering you?’

Noct didn’t answer, but his frown deepened as he rushed around a corner and towards the elevator. The doors closed behind them with a chime and for a moment, they stood in silence while the cab began its ascent. Ignis turned his head towards Gladio, a silent question on his face, but the Shield just shrugged.

‘I wouldn’t worry about him. He always gets cranky when he didn’t get laid for a few weeks.’

Ignis just shook his head at the comment while Noct shot Gladio a scathing glare. Then the elevator stopped and he rushed out, bursting through the doors of his apartment without bothering to acknowledge the Crownsguard that bowed his head and then looked after him with a slightly worried expression. Inside, he threw himself on the couch and pulled out his phone again. No new messages. He scrolled through his chat with Prompto and stared at the speech bubbles.

[Prom] Sry, got sidetracked...

[Prom] On my way home

Maybe he had found another cat. Maybe he had finished work a few days earlier. Maybe his phone had died.

Maybe Noct had only imagined the faint pull that had felt as if someone had summoned a potion from the Armiger. From the personal stock that only the four of them had access to.

Someone cleared his throat in front of him. He looked up and met Ignis’ stern expression.

‘Noct’, he said calmly. ‘If there is something bothering you, I would very much prefer you tell us so we can help.’

Noct groaned and let his head fall back. He ruled a whole kingdom – for better or worse – but Ignis still made him feel like an obstinate child. It annoyed him, and he was eternally grateful for it. His face seemed to crumble as his anger dissolved, leaving only worry and the vague bad feeling squirming around in his gut.

‘Prompto didn’t text me back’, he said, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to contain the oncoming headache. His right hand trembled. It hadn’t stopped trembling since the Ring of the Lucii had almost burned it to ash. But the tremors were barely visible anymore and easy to ignore, except when he was really tired or stressed. The dark burn mark circling his middle finger felt cold.

Gladio snorted in the background. ‘Really?’, he asked. ‘You had a lover’s spat?’

Noct shot him an angry glance. ‘No. He just stopped texting, and hours later he says he’s on his way home, without any explanation why he’s coming back early. And after that, just... nothing.’

Gladio raised his eyebrows, utterly unimpressed. ‘That all?’

Noct shook his head; then, with a frown, he called on the Armiger. It took a few seconds in which the throbbing in his head grew into a full scale headache. His connection to the Crystal had become unsteady and wavering, but it was still there. The Glaives and the Crownsguard could still use it, even though it tended to take a lot more time and concentration than before and got harder the farther away they were from him. He also had the faint impression that the connection was waning, as if what he was drawing on was just some residual power that got used up slowly. The point was that it had become far too unreliable to use in real combat, which was the reason why Glaive and Crownsguard had taken to carrying their weapons on their persons instead. And now Prompto had gone through the hassle of summoning a potion instead of buying one at an outpost, even though he was so far away that it would have been extremely difficult.

Or maybe he had imagined it. Maybe.

He reached out for the stock of curatives they still maintained for emergencies. He hadn’t checked before. He hadn’t had the time, and he hadn’t dared to look. But now the crystalline shapes rotated around him almost too fast for the eye to follow, and when he let them disappear again, his frown had deepened.

Gladio raised his eyebrows. ‘What was that about?’

‘There’s a Hi-potion missing.’

Ignis perked up. ‘Are you sure?’, he asked. ‘Could one of the Glaives have taken it?’

Noct shook his head even though he knew his advisor couldn’t see it. ‘It’s from our stock.’

‘Indeed.’ Ignis cocked his head, contemplating. ‘Well, there is a whole number of reasons why Prompto could have needed it. Maybe someone required his assistance. Maybe he intended to summon something else entirely – you know that the Armiger can be quite fickle these days. Of course it is possible that he suffered some kind of injury, but since he wrote to you about coming back to Insomnia, I assume he would have told you if it was anything of real concern.’

‘He didn’t.’ Noct clenched his teeth, staring at the wall with a dark expression. ‘He didn’t tell me _anything._ ’

There was a silent groan from Gladio, then the Shield shuffled towards the couch and sat down next to him, slapping him on the back. ‘Come on, the kid can look after himself. He’ll be back and laughing at you for worrying in the first place before you know it.’

The phone’s display was still dark. No new messages. He had a bad feeling. But he did his best to wipe the frown off his face.

‘Yeah’, he muttered quietly.

***

The bad feeling didn’t disappear that evening, or the next day. The phone’s display remained dark. Noct was on edge the whole time. He was watching out for anything going on with the Armiger, but nothing happened. He checked his phone, again and again, but Prompto hadn’t been online since he’d sent his last two texts. The bad feeling remained.

When he returned to his apartment that evening, the guard at the door bowed his head and said: ‘Your Majesty, Prompto Argentum arrived a short while ago. He is waiting inside.’

He barely took the time to utter a breathless ‘Thank you’ before he ripped the door open and rushed inside his living room. Relief washed through him as he spotted a familiar tuft of blond hair. Prompto sat on the couch fiddling with his camera as if nothing had happened. The freckles on his shoulders and cheekbones were drowned out by a nasty sunburn, but otherwise he looked just the same as always. He jumped when Noct stormed into the room, his head whipping up with an expression bordering on blank panic. It disappeared so fast that Noct almost thought he had imagined it.

He resisted the urge to throw his arms around Prompto’s neck and grabbed his shoulders instead, holding him at arm’s length to examine him more closely until Prompto started to squirm under his gaze.

‘Uhm – you done looking or do you want to draw a picture?’

Noct studied his face. He seemed... fine. His expression was utterly innocent, except that he didn’t seem able to return his gaze for long before starting to avoid his eyes.

‘Are you alright?’, Noct asked. Prompto startled at the question.

‘Uh... yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You didn’t text me back.’

Prompto looked away. ‘Yeah, my – my battery died. Sorry.’

‘Did you get hurt?’

‘H- Huh?’ Noct was pretty sure that it took Prompto a bit too long to look surprised at the question. Before that, he seemed... scared, maybe? Definitely uncomfortable.

‘You summoned a potion from the Armiger.’

‘Oh. Yeah, I – it was just a stupid mistake. Nothing the potion couldn’t fix.’ There was a sheepish grin spreading across his face. ‘I really had you worried, huh? Sorry.’

Noct let out a deep breath. ‘It’s ok. You came home in one piece, right?’, he muttered as he pulled Prompto into a hug. The blond leaned into the touch, all but melting against the other man’s body. They remained like that for some time before Noct pulled back and planted a quick kiss on Prompto’s lips.

‘Wanna have some dinner? Specs is busy but I think he left something in the fridge.’

‘Gods, yes’, Prompto sighed. ‘I’m sooo tired of Kenny’s fries.’

As Noct was warming up their dinner, the weight of another body leaning against his back, two freckled arms wrapped around his waist and a pointed chin resting on his shoulder, he kept wondering why Prompto had lied to him.

***

Prompto was fidgeting with his wristband again. The wristband covering his barcode. He hadn’t done that in a long time. He usually didn’t wear the thing at all anymore; but now it was back, and he was fidgeting. Noct had never really noticed that particular habit of his until he had learned of its meaning; and then there were ten years missing from his life in which Prompto had grown up and changed and gained new habits, and then he’d come back and the wristband had been mostly gone and the barcode hadn’t gotten any special attention anymore. Until now.

It wouldn’t be the first time Prompto had pulled the thing out of the closet again on a whim or because someone had looked at his wrist funny. But it was certainly unusual. Especially since it was just the two of them now, lying in bed, and he was still wearing it. And he was fidgeting.

Noct shoved the thought away and scurried closer to the warm body next to him. He was worried, yes, but Prompto seemed unwilling to talk about it, and he didn’t want to push. He just had to hope that he would come around eventually.

And he had missed him.

Prompto cuddled up to him with a sleepy smile as he felt him pressing agains his back, finally leaving the wristband alone. Noct hummed and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer to his chest. He buried his nose in the blond hair and crooked his neck until he could press his lips to the soft skin of Prompto’s throat, right below his ear. He was rewarded with a soft moan as Prompto let his head fall to the side to give him better access and he took the invitation gladly. Soon he was nibbling gently at the exposed skin while Prompto started to rock back against him with lazy movements. Noct felt an interested twitch in his pants and his breath grew heavier as he grazed his teeth over the junction of the neck and freckled shoulder in front of him. His fingers travelled down Prompto’s side, tracing the edge of his hip bone and following the waistband of his sleeping pants to the trail of light hair on his stomach. He followed the trail to his navel, the shirt catching on his wrist and riding up along with his hand. Prompto pressed back against him more urgently as he mapped the lines of his abdomen with the tips of his fingers, his lips still lingering at the blond’s throat. His hand wandered a bit further – and his breath hitched in surprise as he came across an unfamiliar shape.

‘What the –‘

It was a thin line of protruding, knotted flesh; starting on Prompto’s left side, right under the ribs, and curving upwards across his chest.

Prompto froze.

Noct’s heart jumped to his throat as he traced the fresh scar, careful not to put too much pressure on it. Prompto had summoned a Hi-potion. For a wound to leave such a scar even after being treated with a Hi-potion, it must have been deep. Very deep. The thought made him nauseous.

His fingers had reached the centre of the blond’s chest as Prompto grabbed his wrist to stop him. His eyes were screwed shut and there was a pained expression on his face.

‘Prompto?’ He pulled his hand back slowly, letting it rest on the other man’s arm instead in a reassuring gesture. His mind was whirling with questions – how did he get hurt, who did this to him and why the _fuck_ didn’t he tell him - but with a look at the blonds miserable expression, he pushed them away for now. _Priorities_ , he told himself.

‘Does it hurt?’, he asked.

Prompto shook his head, but his face was still clenched and he curled up under the covers as if he wanted to hide himself.

‘Hey’, Noct said softly. He smoothed his hand over the dishevelled blond hair. ‘What happened?’

Prompto just made himself smaller without responding. Noct noticed that his fingers had started to play with the wristband again, but Prompto himself didn’t even seem to notice. He clenched his teeth, trying to swallow down the feelings burning in his chest. Worry, confusion, frustration... He just kept running his hand through the blond hair and did his best to appear steady and calm. _Priorities._

‘Prom’, he said. ‘It’s ok. You don’t have to tell me about it. We... we can talk in the morning, alright? Just... let me take a look at it.’ Prompto winced and Noct tried to pretend he didn’t notice. ‘Please. I need to know you’re alright.’

There was no answer for some time. Then, after an eternity, Prompto slowly unfolded his limbs and turned around to lie on his back. He nodded, but he kept averting his eyes. Noct reached for his nightstand and switched the small reading lamp on, then he carefully pushed up Prompto’s shirt to have a better look at the scar. He didn’t know as much about injuries as he would have liked right now, but he couldn’t find anything wrong with it that would require immediate care. The skin had knitted back together well enough and he didn’t see any signs of inflammation. It still made his stomach churn.

‘Ok’, he breathed and let go of the shirt’s fabric. Prompto’s face was averted, the blue eyes shimmering with tears. He looked up as Noct gently laid a hand on his chest, right over his hammering heart.

‘Ok’, Noct said again, trying hard to keep his voice steady. ‘Doesn’t look too bad. I’ll stop pestering you about it for now, but you have to promise me that you’ll go see a doctor first thing in the morning.’

Prompto hesitated, but then he nodded slowly.

‘Yeah. Ok’, he said in a small voice.

‘Good.’

Noct let himself sink back down on the mattress and switched off the light. Prompto curled up on his side again, his back to Noct and the blanket pulled up to his ears like a shield. It took a long time for his breathing to become deep and steady.

***

[Specs] I heard Prompto returned this evening. Is he alright?

[Noct] Yeah

[Noct] No

[Noct] Not really

[Specs] Care to elaborate?

[Noct] I don’t know

[Noct] He’s acting weird. Something definitely happened and

[Noct] He got hurt. Bad

[Specs] Is he in need of medical attention?

[Noct] Not right now. I’ll send him to the doc tomorrow

[Specs] I see

[Noct] I will find out who did this. And I will end them

[Specs] I would advise you to wait until you have all the facts. Maybe no one did anything to him. It could have been an accident.

[Noct] You didn’t see him. I think he’s scared

[Noct] Like, seriously freaked out. And he won’t talk about it

[Noct] _Someone_ did this to him. Maybe they threatened him or

[Noct] I don’t know

[Noct] I have no fucking clue

[Specs] I will make a few calls. Someone in Galdin Quay might be able to shed light on the matter.

[Noct] Yeah. Thanks, Iggy

[Specs] Of course

Noct put down the phone and buried his face in his hands. Then he risked a glance at the sleeping form next to him. He wanted to touch him, to hold him against his chest and kiss those tears away until Prompto would smile again, feel safe again. He also wanted to find whoever was responsible and murder them. Strip the skin from their body in tiny ribbons and rip out their fingernails one by one. Throw them in the deepest, darkest dungeon he could find and loose the key. Also, murder them. But he suspected that neither would be entirely welcome at the moment. So he lay there in the dark, painfully aware of the distance between their bodies like a wall of icy air. He stared at the blank ceiling and waited for sleep to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holidays are over, time to go back to work. If real life doesn't get in the way too much I think I'll post a new chapter every week or so, since I tend to pump those out pretty fast once I'm in the flow. Until then, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Prompto had just stepped out of the shower and now stood in front of the mirror arranging his hair as the door flew open and Noct burst into the bathroom, the blond’s name on his lips. He looked like he had just fallen out of bed, his hair dishevelled and his eyes wide but unfocused. He was breathing heavily.

For a moment, they both just stood there, frozen in movement and staring at each other. Finally, Prompto broke the silence.

‘Uh… you ok there, buddy?’

The tension drained from Noct’s body and he slumped against the door frame, running his hand through messy raven hair.

‘Yeah, I just… ah’ He let out a small weary chuckle. ‘Sorry. I guess I freaked out a little when you weren’t in bed.’

‘Dude. I _always_ get up before you do.’

‘I know, I know. But, after yesterday… I mean, you were completely out of it.’ He shrugged awkwardly, avoiding Prompto’s eyes. ‘For a moment, I really thought you might’ve run off.’

Prompto’s fingers tightened around the edge of the wash bowl until his knuckles turned white. He was all too aware that he had brought this onto himself. Forgetting about the scar had been stupid. When he had arrived at his apartment yesterday after driving non-stop for hours, he had felt shaky and nauseous. Taking a shower and throwing away his bloodstained clothes had helped a bit, but he hadn’t been able to calm down until he had arrived at Noct’s place. By the time they had eaten and gone to bed, what had happened in Galdin had started to feel like a bad dream. Until Noct had discovered the scar. Stupid, stupid mistake. Now, Noct was worried – and wouldn’t rest until he got to the bottom of this pile of behemoth shit.

At least the panic from last night had subsided to a manageable level of uneasiness. He still felt somewhat lightheaded and unsteady, but he wasn’t about to let that show.

Instead, he forced a light-hearted grin on his face. ‘Nah, you won’t get rid of me so easily.’

His answer was a deep frown.

‘Prom… come on. Stop screwing around.’

Prompto sighed. ‘What do you want me to say? I screwed up, I got my ass kicked, I kicked some ass back, I got out. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.’

‘ _Who_ kicked your ass?’

‘Huh? ...No one. I – I wanted to help a guy in Galdin get rid of some pests. Got rustier than I thought over the last year.’

Noct’s gaze wandered to his bare chest, sharpening as he examined the scar. Its angry red stood out against the pale skin, winding across his torso like an ugly worm. The greyish-blue eyes seemed to scrutinize every inch of it, then they suddenly went wide.

‘Prompto’, Noct hissed between his teeth, something cold and furious burning in his gaze. The blond almost thought he could feel the temperature in the room drop by a few degrees. He got the feeling that if this argument hadn’t been about his well-being, Noct would have grabbed him, shoved him against a wall and choked the truth out of him. He couldn’t remember when he had last seen him so pissed.

‘Who. Kicked. Your. Ass.’

‘I told you –‘

‘Then why the fuck is there a _fucking gunshot wound_ in your shoulder?’

_Oh shit._

This really wasn’t his week. It was bad enough that he had been too preoccupied last night to take his injuries in consideration, but now he had gone and made the same mistake all over again. Next to the huge gash across his chest, the small knob of scar tissue below his collarbone had seemed insignificant enough that he hadn’t paid it any more mind.

_Sloppy, Argentum. Sloppy work._

There was a storm brewing on Noct’s face, but when he reached out for his shoulder and to feel the freshly healed flesh, his fingers were gentle and careful. It stung, but not enough for Prompto to flinch and make his friend worry even more than he already did. He was turned around and felt fingers lightly pressing on the exit wound on his back. He was glad that the bullet had cleanly pierced his shoulder instead of getting stuck; he’d never really had the nerves for digging metal out of his own body on the battlefield.

Noct took a deep breath, composing himself. Then he grabbed the blond by the shoulder – the uninjured one – and shoved him out into the living room.

‘Doctor. Now’, he said in a flat voice.

Prompto’s mind – flimsy and skittish thing that it was when he was under stress – thought about asking for breakfast first; but a glance at Noct’s stone face dissuaded him from that idea. Instead, he let his head hang and obediently went to the bedroom to dress himself. As soon as he was out of sight, he staggered slightly, trying to swallow the icy lump in his throat. The urge to curl up under the covers and hide from the world like last night got almost unbearable.

His fingers started shaking again.

***

‘Don’t make me beg, pal.’ The hunter pulled a face in mock hurt. ‘Just a drink or two. One of the guys there has been fangirling since we saw you in that diner back in Cleigne. And now we happened to run into you again...’

Prompto’s curiosity would one day be the death of him. It tended to be the source of impulses that ranged from stupid to hazardous to downright suicidal, and he doubted that there was a person on Eos with shittier impulse control than him. Going with a group of baby behemoths with swords who seemed to have stalked him for days and kept throwing sketchy glances in his direction didn’t seem like _the_ worst idea he’d ever had, but it was definitely pretty high up on the list. Nevertheless, the thought of running off and driving back to Insomnia without getting to the bottom of this seemed a hundred times worse to his adrenaline addled brain. So he forced himself into a more relaxed posture and shrugged.

‘Fine, one drink. Lead the way, _pal_.’

His voice trembled just the slightest bit, and that had to be his accomplishment of the week.

The hunter’s face lit up in a grin that almost made him backpedal. But there was already a hand on his shoulder pushing him towards the waiting group of rough-looking men on the beach, and despite all better judgement, Prompto complied.

They led him to a table by the seaside, outside the main building and a bit secluded from the more occupied parts of the Quay. _Great_. The hunter pushed him down on one of the chairs with just little enough force to not make it look like they were going to interrogate him. As soon as they were all seated, a waitress seemed to materialize from the void and placed a tray with glasses on the table before being shooed away by one of the men.

‘So what’s a legendary hunter doin’ now instead of huntin’?’, the guy to Prompto’s right asked, nudging his shoulder with a jovial gesture while one of the others handed out the drinks.

‘Uhm, well, I…’ _Yeah, at least don’t tell them about the Crown business maybe?_ ‘I’m a photographer. Just… freelancing here and there at the moment.’

‘Photographer, eh?’

There was a thoughtful and faintly amused expression on the hunter’s face as he scratched his black beard that made Prompto’s cheeks heat up nervously. He quickly took a sip from the cold beer that had appeared on the table in front of him.

The hunter’s gaze lit up in triumph.

Prompto nearly choked on his drink, but he forced himself to lower the glass slowly instead of throwing it in the next best guy’s face.

_Oh no no no, this isn’t going well._

The man who had chatted him up slipped on the chair to his left and shot him a broad grin. Prompto had to think of a slobbering wolf.

‘Well, a toast to the hero who got out of this shitty business. And to the Dawn King, may his ass sit comfortably on the throne for a hundred years.’

Prompto absently thought that he absolutely had to remember this one to tell it to Noct, but then he noticed that the men around him had raised their glasses and looked at him expectantly.

_No, this really isn’t going well._

The amber liquid in his glass glinted at him maliciously and even though he thought that now his nerves really did get the better of him and this would be a little _too_ cliché, he took care not to swallow anything as he raised the glass to his lips.

The hunters seemed satisfied and started to chatter amongst themselves as if he wasn’t even there, though they continued to throw sharp glances in his direction. Prompto was content busying himself with melting into the background, and for a moment or two, it seemed to be working. Until a voice right next to his ear made his heart leap to his throat.

‘Nice tat.’

The hunter to his right – Blackbeard - was staring down at the table. No, at his wrist. At the barcode.

_Nooo no no no no. Nope._

He desperately tried to cover the tattoo with his hand as casually as possible while the man went on: ‘Not somethin’ I would get inked myself… what’s it mean?’

‘Tha- that thing? Uhm, that’s just… ah… no- nothing, really. I, uh… I was completely wasted when I got that. Doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Hey, stop nagging him’, Wolf reprimanded his colleague. Prompto was almost grateful to him, but then the man fixed his piercing gaze on him and added slowly, almost pleasurably: ‘I’m sure Prompto here would be happy to tell us _all_ about that tattoo of his, isn’t that right?’

_Nope. Big, fat nope._

His heart was hammering in his ears and there was a fuzzy feeling in his head that made his thoughts swim. There was something off with his sight – he didn’t seem able to focus properly on the table in front of him and it made the bile rise in his throat. He jumped up from his chair, ready to make an undignified escape.

The world tilted around him.

He could barely catch himself on the edge of the table before his legs would give out under him. There was a hand on his arm and a voice in his ear, far away and distorted as if he was under water.

‘Uh-oh, something wrong? Here, lemme give you a hand…’

He leaned on the arm that was offered to him gratefully. Through the haze, he distantly realized that he was being led away from the table; but his sense of direction was thrown off and he couldn’t make out where they were going.

‘I think you had a bit much to drink, pal’, the distorted voice said.

_Drink, right. There was something in the drink._

He frowned, trying to think through the disorientation and nausea. Somewhere far away, his legs still stumbled along obediently with the hunter leading him.

_They gave me the drink. There was something in the drink. They put something in it._

The fuzzy feeling ebbed away slowly; it wasn’t gone, but his head cleared enough to recognize that they had reached the parking lot - and that he was so far beyond screwed he’d have to invent a whole new word for it. Because they were about to shove him into a waiting car and his muscles were still far too uncooperative to do anything against it and _they had drugged his sorry ass like he was some teenage girl in a friggin’ disco,_ he would never get to live down that one…

His mind helpfully supplied that it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t get to live down anything ever again, since it was unlikely for those guys to just dump him on the side of the road and wish him a good day. Also, what the _hell_ had they put in that beer? It must have been strong enough to put down a herd of garula if he was knocked out after one tiny sip. The only bright side was that the effect was clearing much faster than they probably anticipated. He had already regained some control over his limbs, but it wasn’t nearly enough to fight back. Therefore, he did what was usually best left to certain other people and tried to engage his brain instead. Tried to remember the self-defence lessons from his Crownsguard training. Consuming drinks spiked with garula-tranquilizer hadn’t been one of the subjects and he was pretty sure that if Cor could see him right now, he would rip him a new one for being an embarrassment of a pupil. But there _had_ been something about ‘imprisonment by the enemy’. Most of it wasn’t too helpful, since hearing the Marshal’s voice in his head reciting a list of ways to best withstand various forms of torture didn’t exactly calm his nerves. The only advice that could help him right now was _If you want to break out, patience is the key. Observe and wait for an opportunity._

They threw him in the backseat like a sack of beans, flanked by Blackbeard on one and some other hunter on the other side. Then the car started moving, causing a new wave of nausea to roll through his stomach. He asked himself if puking all over his captors counted as a viable self-defence technique but decided that he probably didn’t want to find out. Instead he bided his time, working on clearing the fog in his brain.

The rumbling of the engine stopped not too long after. Prompto risked a glance at his surroundings and found that they were just a few miles outside of Galdin Quay, on a small side road. Away from prying eyes. So this was probably the spot where they would give up on their ruse of a group of friends escorting their drunk buddy home.

He was proven right.

‘Get that thing out of there’, barked Wolf – he seemed to be the head of the lot.

Hands grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of the car, only to roughly shove him to the ground. He could barely avoid his skull crashing against the stone.

Wolf kneeled in front of him and grabbed a handful of blond hair, forcing him to lift his head and meet the other’s piercing gaze. The man studied his face intently, turning his head this way and that. Then he grinned his canine grin.

‘I always wondered what those tin cans look like under their masks.’

Prompto’s breath caught in his throat. His stomach roiled violently, and this time it had nothing to do with whatever drugs they had fed him.

_Keep calm, keep calm, c’mon, don’t let him get to you. Assume he knows every dirty detail and move on._

_Observe and wait for an opportunity,_ Cor’s voice echoed in his head.

There were five men. They had carried no obvious weapons apart from hunting knives back in Galdin, but now one of them pulled a duffel bag out of the trunk and handed swords and daggers to his buddies. And two guns.

_Thank all the Astrals._

His chances of getting out of this unscathed – or rather: getting out of this at all, since he probably shouldn’t set his bar too high – were much better if he could get his hands on a gun. Right now though, those chances were securely fastened to the hips of two of his captors. And their leader was still rambling.

‘You know, I asked myself for some time now: What is His Majesty doing with something like you? Is he enjoying his spoils of war?’

He shoved his face closer to Prompto’s until the blond could smell stale breath. He flinched away and there was a sharp pain shooting through his scalp. Wolf sneered at him.

‘You his little Niff pet? He thinks it’s fun to have his personal toy-MT?’

Prompto thrashed in his grasp, ignoring the pain. One of the other men kicked him in the side and he curled up gasping for breath.

‘Does he even know that you rolled off some production line and got stamped like a fucking can of soda?’

There were tears running over his face. He couldn’t let them see it; he wanted to take them apart one by one and rip that guy’s tongue out of his mouth until he stopped spewing his poison. But his throat had locked up and breathing hurt and there was too much air in his lungs and he was trembling. He tasted stale air and metal and snow and he heard the voice in his head, over and over and over…

_You’re nothing but a failure_

_A failed experiment_

_You’re one of them_

_You’re nothing_

The panic rose in his throat and threatened to choke him, it grew and tried to make his head explode. Like a shrill sound pounding in his ears, louder and louder and louder and then…

Silence.

A pair of legs appeared in his line of sight, and a hand holding a piece of thin, sturdy rope. The kind of rope hunters used for their traps - or for tying up game. Prompto crooked his neck as far as he could with the hand still fisted in his hair. The legs ended in a hip that was circled by a heavy leather belt. There was a holster fastened to the belt. The gun winked at him with a glint of its polished metal.

Wolf finally let go of Prompto’s hair and pushed his head down until he tasted dirt on his lips. He didn’t even flinch. There were still tears on his face, but his mind had gone surprisingly calm. As if his feelings had gone into overload and now there was nothing left but a cool cloudiness. As the man with the gun reached to grab his arm, he twisted his wrist until he got a hold of his captor instead, using the element of surprise to drag him down to the ground. He punched the air from his lungs with a clean hit and grabbed the gun from its holster, jumping to his feet and sprinting towards the small slope at the side of the road, all in one fluid motion. His head was pounding at the quick movement, but he ignored it. His senses seemed sharpened while his thoughts remained strangely dull. There was turmoil under the surface, fear and pain and too many memories, so he took care not to scratch at it. Just action and reaction. Switching off the safety on the gun, checking the clip, finding secure footing, aiming, breathing, pulling the trigger.

He tried not to listen to the sound as the first of the hunters that had appeared at the edge of the slope toppled over and his body crashed to the ground. It was a very different sound from the one beasts or daemons made when they were hit. It was so very human.

_Four to go._

He didn’t wait for the other men to come after him; he had to avoid an uphill battle. Instead he turned and made a run for the rock formation jutting from the ground to his left. He had almost reached it when the first gunshot sounded behind him. He thought he could feel the bullet whistling past him. He whirled around, allowing himself just a fraction of a second to take aim, and pulled the trigger again. A man – Blackbeard? - stumbled and fell. Prompto only realised his mistake as one of the three that were still running raised the gun. He dove for the cover of the rocks, but he didn’t get far before a blinding pain ripped through his shoulder. His breath stuttered and he staggered, the gun nearly slipping from his grasp as his right hand fell limply to his side. Something warm and wet spread under his shirt but he didn’t dare to look. He didn’t have time to staunch the bleeding. He just ground his teeth and focussed on not passing out from the pain.

_Three to go._

***

The doctor that had set up shop in the New Palace didn’t ask questions. That was one thing Prompto was immensely grateful for. The other was that she made Noct wait outside while she examined him, despite the former’s protests. Prompto asked himself whether taking no shit from royalty was a job requirement for the Court’s medic or just part of the woman’s brash temperament.

She gave him a salve to rub on the scars and a pack of painkillers and ordered him to take it easy until his body had fully healed. Despite his assurances towards Noct, he was glad to hear that he would be back and kicking in no time.

When he left the doctor’s office, Noct had been joined by Ignis and Gladio. Inwardly Prompto sighed, but he plastered a careless smile on his face as he went to greet them.

‘Hey, wazzup?’

‘Prompto.’ Ignis turned his head in his direction, a slight frown on his face. ‘How are you? I understand that you had some… trouble on your journey?’

‘What did the doc say?’ Noct cut in, scrutinizing him from top to feet. Prompto couldn’t help but shift his weight awkwardly under the piercing gaze.

‘It’s fine. She gave me some stuff to put on so the scars will heal better. Just have to take it easy for the next days and I’m clear.’

‘Told ya there’s nothing to worry about’, Gladio rumbled. Prompto had to bite his tongue hard to avoid a sound of pain escaping him as the Shield clapped him on the injured shoulder. Gladio didn’t seem to have noticed his wince as he turned to him, pointing his thumb at Noct. ‘That guy was totally convinced you've been eaten by a catoblepas or something. He was completely out of it for two days straight. Iggy almost went mad ‘cause he wouldn’t get any work done.’

‘Sorry’, Prompto mumbled, his eyes fixed on the floor. There it was; his friends had been worried, and Noct hadn’t even been able to fulfil his duties because of him. And he wouldn’t even tell them what this was about. He couldn’t. The guilt settled in his stomach as a heavy knot.

Thankfully, Ignis jumped to his rescue before he could dwell on it for too long.

‘Let’s forget this unpleasant incident and instead be grateful that Prompto returned home safe and sound. Now, would anyone care for a late breakfast?’

Of course they did, and so the four of them set off in the direction of Noct’s apartment.

As Prompto walked, he caught Noct’s gaze. The other was eyeing him with that slightly tired and annoyed concern he usually reserved for crucial and world-changing problems that he couldn’t quite figure out yet. There was an intensity to his expression that promised Prompto there wouldn’t be any _forgetting_ any time soon.

He had just accepted that they would spend the rest of the way trudging along in icy silence as Noct moved closer to him. Their hands brushed and Noct slipped his fingers between Prompto’s, giving them a light squeeze. A short, fleeting gesture, but it felt warm and reassuring.

‘I’m glad you’re ok’, Noct murmured, his eyes firmly fixed forward.

Prompto smiled. It was faint and maybe a little sad, but it was his first genuine smile since last night. It took some of the tension from his shoulders.

The knot in his stomach was still there, but maybe it had gotten a little bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for poor Prompto to put him through the wringer like this... but there is a glimpse of fluffyness on the horizon and maybe our boys will get a little breather before the unfortunate events unfold further.
> 
> I'm curious to hear what you think of it so far!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing a new POV - because mother's gotta mother if there's mothering to do
> 
> Also: binge-writing. Commonly appears on weekends after a stressful week at work. Makes the story progress much faster than I planned, but I guess you won't complain.

Ignis had come to terms with many things in his life. As a child, it had been the fact that he would appear strange to adults and at times downright alien to his peers; and that it could be a tiring and frustrating work to accommodate people whose thoughts weren’t running like a well-oiled clockwork for every single one of their waking hours. He had accepted it and learned to use it to his advantage.

As an adolescent, it had been the circumstance that the position that had been chosen both _for_ and _by_ him didn’t allow for plans or aspirations of his own, and that he sacrificed his personal freedom for someone who hardly ever seemed to appreciate it. He had embraced it and found not only contentment, but true happiness in his calling.

Later on, it had been the realization that he could only ever lighten the burden on his liege’s and friend’s shoulders, but never take it on himself entirely. He had learned to use this as a cause to better himself and strive to be a steadfast rock to lean on in the most troubled of times.

Finally, it had been the inevitable truth that he would have to let his oldest friend, his brother, go to his death to save them all. He had accepted it because he had felt everything less would have been a disservice to the man he was bound to by so much more than duty.

Ignis thought that losing his sight would be the one thing he would never fully come to terms with.

There were the practical implications, all the everyday tasks he had to learn anew. There was the beauty of the world that was still seared into his brain with a painful clarity but fading more and more every single day he spent in the dark. But the thing he couldn’t get used to, even after more than ten years, was that he wasn’t able to look his friends in the eyes anymore. He had used to read people’s faces like open books, a carefully honed skill now lost forever. He had learned to hear the nuances in their voices instead, but once they fell silent, most of their thoughts and feelings remained a mystery to him. It made him feel disconnected, a part of the intricate system of communication and understanding he had once navigated with ease barred from him.

Noct was in the room, but he didn’t speak. He was nothing more than a silent presence, a soft rustle of clothes, a steady breath. A mystery. His clipped answers to Ignis’s questions as he had come in suggested that he was sulking. Ignis could see him with his mind’s eye; lounging on the couch, his limbs stubbornly intertwined, a storm brewing in greyish-blue eyes that were almost hidden behind a dark fringe of hair. The Noctis in his mind was eternally twenty years old, and every time he felt the faint stubble on his jaw and realized that he could not imagine what the boy he remembered might look like with a beard, it hurt more than Ignis would ever care to admit.

But Ignis Scientia was not prone to dwell on things he could not change, and he had never been one to give up on a good mystery.

Except that Noct’s behaviour right now was not much of an actual mystery.

‘Will Prompto be joining us for dinner?’

There was the slightest stutter in Noct’s breath, the sound of his movements against the fabric of the couch disappearing. He was frozen for a mere heartbeat, then he snorted.

‘Dunno.’

Ignis suppressed a sigh. _How very predictable._

Noct and Prompto weren’t on bad terms per se, but their interactions had been… strained at best since the latter had returned from his journey.

‘Did you ask him to come?’

Noct let out an angry breath and shifted his position – the faint sound of hair against fabric and a dull thud suggested that he had let himself fall against the backrest of the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table.

‘Mhm…’

‘And what did he say?’, Ignis kept prodding.

‘He made up an excuse.’

Another predictable answer. Prompto’s creativity in thinking up reasons to stay away from the New Palace had been astounding these last few days.

Ignis rested his hands on his hips and cocked his head in Noct’s direction. ‘Be that as it may, you do intend to read those financial reports before dinner, I assume?’ A groan. ‘Oh, and… feet off the table, your Majesty.’

There was a muffled grumble _how’d you even know, that’s creepy_ , but it was followed by the dutiful rustle of papers. Satisfied, Ignis turned to the kitchen. Preparations for tonight’s dinner were in order, but for once, there was one matter more urgent than food on his mind. As soon as he had reached his destination, he carefully closed the door and turned on the radio. A relaxing background noise for cooking – and also an excellent way to obscure the sounds of a conversation. He pulled out his phone and pressed a button, quick dialling a familiar number.

_‘Hey, Iggy.’_

‘Gladio.’

_‘What’s up? Something wrong?’_

‘Indeed. When is the last time Noct spoke with Prompto? Anything exceeding text messages, that is.’

_‘Uh… dunno, three days ago? On the phone.’_

‘I see.’

_‘I’m worried for the kid… He keeps saying he’s ok, but you can smell the bullshit a mile off. Did you get anything on Galdin?’_

‘Not much. The staff at the restaurant said that he had a drink with some hunters that seemed to know him, then there are a few hours unaccounted for. The next thing they could tell me is that he reappeared at the Quay to collect his belongings and left in a hurry.’

_‘Anything on those hunters? Seems like they were the last to see him before… whatever.’_

‘I’m afraid not. They did not stay overnight and paid in cash. It appears the only viable lead we have is Prompto himself.’

_‘Yeah, and Noct is doing a bang-up job in that department…’_

‘I quite agree. If we wish to get to the bottom of this, we need a new approach.’

_‘Ever the strategist. Think you’ll have it worked out by dinner?’_

‘I’m flattered. But if we are to provide any real help for Prompto, I’ll need your assistance.’

_‘Ugh… I’m not good with all this touchy-feely stuff, y’know? …What do you want me to do?’_

‘I’ll prepare dinner for four. See to it that all seats are occupied.’

_‘How? Noct kept poking the kid about Galdin until he wouldn’t even answer the damn phone anymore.’_

‘I’m sure you’ll think of something. I don’t care how you do it, just make sure that he’ll be here.’

_‘… Fine.’_

***

After his conversation with Gladio, Ignis returned to the living room. Noct was still occupied with the report, his work accompanied by his mumbling, occasional groans and – to Ignis’s delight – the scratching of a pen on paper every now and then. It seemed that Noct was scribbling down notes instead of just skimming through the pages. Though his at times obstinate behaviour in private might suggest otherwise, he had grown into his role. His youth and inexperience were still showing, but he had proved time and again that he could stand his ground against the Council and the never-ending needs of the public well enough. In fact, he became more proficient by the day in balancing all the demands and expectations being thrown at him. It made Ignis’ chest swell with pride and he knew without a doubt that the young king would grow into a leader to rival his father.

Now though, he cleared his throat to get Noct’s attention. The rustle of paper stopped, and he could feel eyes settling on him.

‘A word, if I may?’

‘What is it?’

Ignis walked over to the armchair that was placed next to the coffee table, sitting down with his legs neatly crossed.

‘I’d like to talk about Prompto.’

His answer was an irritated sigh. He heard the sound of a stack of papers hitting the tabletop and braced for a snippy answer or an attempt to deflect the topic. Instead, Noct did something that was entirely uncharacteristic for him: he poured out his heart.

‘I don’t know what to do, Specs’, he said, his voice small and tired. ‘He just… he won’t let me help him. I really tried talking to him, but he doesn’t tell me anything. I- I just want him to _trust_ me. How am I supposed to help him if I don’t even know who did this to him?’

Ignis listened calmly, his head turned in the direction of the other’s voice. Noct was deeply troubled, that much was evident. Not just by the immediate events that had transpired, but also by the rift that had formed between Prompto and him. Their relationship so far had been a smooth one, aided by the familiarity they had built as friends over many years. As far as Ignis knew, this was the first real crisis they had ever faced. And it left Noct utterly helpless, doing the only thing he knew to do in situations such as this: shutting off before the weight of his perceived inadequacy could crush him, and sulking.

‘Are you sure that this should be your main concern right now?’, Ignis asked.

Noct drew in a sharp breath. ‘If this is about me not concentrating on work…’

‘It is not’, Ignis cut in before Noct could work up a temper. ‘I do not expect you to be emotionally unaffected by circumstances such as this, and your duties have not yet been affected in a way that would be deemed intolerable. What I mean is: Shouldn’t you rather concentrate on being a comforting presence to Prompto instead of trying to carry out your personal revenge?’

There were a few beats of silence that Ignis could only interpret as Noct staring at him in disbelief.

‘I- I’m not… it’s not about…’

‘He is obviously disturbed by what he has endured. Whether it is too painful for him to talk about it or he has some other reason to withhold information from us I do not know; but if we want to learn more, the only course of action I see is to make him feel comfortable enough to open up eventually. Turning every single conversation with him into an interrogation is not helping matters along in that regard.’

There was a shaky breath and the near inaudible sound of fingers running through tousled hair.

‘Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have pushed him so much… but… _shit_ Specs – someone almost killed him and did something to scare him so much that he can’t feel safe in his own home. I need to find those bastards. I- I need him to feel safe again.’

Ignis sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose – a mere idle habit. He couldn’t say he didn’t sympathize – his daggers would have a thing or two to say to the perpetrators, should their identities ever come to light. As cool-headed and reserved as he presented himself, he did not take kindly to people harming one of his closest friends. But that was a feeling best put aside for another day.

‘I understand. And as a king, you have the obligation to punish those who harm the subjects under your protection. But as a friend and partner, your goal should be to provide support where it is needed. Right now, I daresay Prompto’s wish is to have some comfort and respite from what he has experienced, and he will doubtless need all the support he can get to accomplish that. Now, _your_ decision is whether to treat him as a king, or as a friend.’

Noct snorted, a sound between wry amusement and exasperation.

‘Can’t say I had anything _kingly_ in mind for those fuckers. But… yeah, I guess I get what you’re saying.’

A combination of soft noises, _fidgeting_ as Ignis knew from experience. Then a sigh.

‘He hasn’t done anything but evade me for days. I know I screwed up, but I can’t make it right if he won’t event talk to me.’

‘Don’t worry about that. He will be here for dinner, I asked Gladio to make sure of it.’

Another snort, but this time laced with true humour.

‘The royal advisor uses the Crownsguard to arrest people - without the king’s knowledge? That’s a full-blown scandal right there, Specs.’

Ignis rose from the armchair with a soft chuckle. ‘Far be it from my mind to abuse my position in such a way.’ He turned towards the kitchen once more, but paused in his movement. ‘Would you mind giving me a hand in the kitchen? _After_ you have finished that report, that is.’

‘Yeah, yeah…’, Noct murmured, but Ignis still waited deliberately to leave the room until he heard him pick up the papers again. The Noctis in his mind might be eternally twenty years old and the Noctis in front of him a presence without a face. But that didn’t matter all that much when both chose to act like a teenager. There was a certain contingency about it, a familiarity that rendered the issue of their age moot. It made Ignis feel… _connected._

***

Ignis had almost finished setting the table as Gladio arrived with Prompto in tow. Noct had actually finished the report, as Ignis had noted with satisfaction – and he had no doubt that his charge had been truthful about his progress, since even if Ignis lacked the means to visually confirm his words, he could still track a lie as easily as a dog could track a scent.

He listened to the sounds as Gladio entered the apartment. The Shield’s heavy, deliberate footsteps were accompanied by softer, stumbling ones. The muffled noises of protest suggested that Gladio had dragged Prompto across town by the scruff of his neck. The larger man dropped his burden unceremoniously in the living room, right by the dining table.

‘Prompto. I’m glad you could make it’, Ignis greeted the blond smoothly, ignoring the fact that Prompto’s presence had little to do with voluntary effort.

‘No sweat’, Prompto mumbled, his voice laced with a miserable kind of sarcasm. It was followed by the slightest stutter in his breath as Noct stepped out of the kitchen.

‘…Hey.’

‘Hey.’

The awkward silence stretched, until Prompto found his voice again.

‘You, uhm… you ok?’

‘Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?’

More silence, but this time it felt much heavier. And it was Gladio who broke it with a sheepish cough.

‘I… might’ve told him you were in the medical wing…’

A clatter as Noct put down the bowls he was carrying on the table with more force than necessary.

‘What the hell, Gladio!?’

The Shield huffed. ‘He wouldn’t open his damn door. What was I supposed to do, break into his apartment? Besides, I cleared it up as soon as there was no more flight-risk.’

‘ _Flight-risk?’_ , Prompto echoed, his voice a touch too high.

‘Hey, you act like a startled chocobo, you get treated like one.’

‘That’s quite enough’, Ignis interrupted the bickering with a calm voice that wouldn’t allow for any backtalk. ‘Sit down before the food gets cold.’

They obliged, though Ignis could make out Gladio’s muttering _told ya I’m not good with the touchy-feely stuff_ and Prompto disbelievingly repeating _flight-risk_ to himself. Then there were no more sounds but the clatter of tableware and cutlery, soon joined by chewing.

The atmosphere was strained. Ignis did not need to see Prompto’s face to know that he was giving an excellent impression of a drenched puppy, unhappily munching his food. Halfway through the meal, Ignis determined that he had given them all enough time to settle their tempers and that they were in desperate need of some words to clear the air. He gave Noct a nudge with his foot under the table, followed by – as his target’s attention was firmly fixed on his plate and he refused to react – a sharp kick to his shin. He could feel Noct startle and leaned his head in Prompto’s direction inconspicuously.

‘Uh…’, Noct started eloquently. Ignis could swear he heard the joints in Prompto’s neck crack at how fast his head snapped up, undoubtedly bracing for another round of questioning.

‘Listen, uhm…’ Noct set down his cutlery, the rustle of fabric indicating that he took to fumbling with the tablecloth instead. ‘I- I know I’ve been on your back pretty much since you returned and, uh…’ He swallowed hard. ‘I… guess I was so focused on making things right that I kinda lost track of how you felt about it.’

Prompto said nothing, no sound betraying his thoughts. Noct’s fumbling got louder in turn.

‘I’m sorry, really, I…’ He let out a heavy, frustrated breath. ‘Gods, I have no idea what I’m doing. Just… I won’t ask you about it anymore, ok? I promise. But… if you want to talk, I’m here. Deal?’

His voice had gotten smaller towards the end, as if he honestly expected Prompto to rebuff him. But the blond did nothing of the sorts, on the contrary. Ignis could feel the waves of unease that had radiated from him throughout dinner ebb away. The feeling did not disappear completely, but he supposed that it was a start.

‘Yeah, ok. Deal’, Prompto said, only the smallest hint of doubt in his voice. He mostly just seemed relieved. ‘…Thanks.’

‘ _Oh please someone give me something to punch, I can’t stand puppy-eyes_ ’, Gladio muttered under his breath; but despite his annoyance, he sounded pleased.

***

They continued their meal in silence, until Ignis managed to strike up a conversation about the state of the local entertainment and cultural offers. A random pick, meant to be as unoffending as possible, but it worked well enough. Even Prompto threw in a few remarks and by the end of dinner, he and Noct were caught up in enthusiastic banter about how the Crown City was in dire need of a new arcade. Normally, Ignis would have bristled at Noct’s suggestion to channel royal funds meant for the rebuilding effort into such endeavours, even if it was said in jest. But just this time, he was far too pleased to witness their jovial and carefree interaction to reprimand them.

He didn’t give in to the illusion that all their problems had evaporated just like that. Prompto was sure to have some reservations whether Noct would be true to his word, and Noct would in turn not cease his worrying. At one point, they would have to speak about what had transpired in Galdin. But right now, they were taking advantage of Ignis’s temporary leniency to sneak away from the table like a couple of schoolboys to play videogames instead of helping with the clean-up. Soon, they were wholly engrossed in their game. Their laughing and shouting was interrupted every now and then by an almost sombre silence that spoke volumes about the thoughts still lingering in the back of their heads; but those moments became scarcer as the evening drew longer, and the silence turned into a comfortable one.

‘How are they doing?’, he asked Gladio at some point, once more painfully aware that his limited senses could relay to him a fragmentary picture at best.

The Shield snorted in amusement. ‘Right now? Practically sitting on each other’s laps, hands all over. You should see Prompto – those are some seriously happy puppy-eyes, lemme tell ya. Whole thing’s so sweet it might’ve given me a cavity.’

Ignis smiled softly. ‘Good to hear. Noct certainly did a good job defusing the situation.’

‘C’mon, take some credit for yourself. He never would’ve pulled his head out of his ass if you hadn’t talked him into it.’

‘Perhaps.’

In silence, he wholeheartedly agreed with Gladio. For people who had known each other for such a long time, Noct and Prompto could be surprisingly dense in regard to their own feelings. And Ignis could not deny that it gave him no small sense of accomplishment to rectify that. It felt good to help, to ease his friends’ burden. But it also reminded him that not only could he learn to cook and fight and gather intel without the help of his eyes; not only could he appreciate the beauty of the world through music and scents and the feeling of wind on his face; he could still read people, form an understanding of their thoughts, even if he wasn’t able to look them in the eyes. He wasn’t disconnected.

That evening, after he had returned to his own apartment, he set aside the press report he had planned to work on and instead opened the e-mail conversation with the Mother of Pearl’s manager. He had his voice assistant read it to him, over and over, typing notes in his phone as he did. Collecting scraps of information like breadcrumbs. It wasn’t much – a time of arrival, a vague description of two or three of the men, the model of a car but no plate.

As he worked his phone chimed, the personalized alarm announcing a text from Noct. 

[Noct] Thanks, Specs

[Ignis] You’re welcome. How is he doing?

[Noct] Better. Not good, but better

[Ignis] Glad to hear.

[Noct] Gotta get back to it, he’s kicking my ass in KK

[Noct] Bye

Ignis smiled silently to himself. It was a good feeling.

Then he straightened, went over the notes he had taken in order to commit them to memory, and dialled the number of Meldacio HQ. He still had a mystery at his hands after all – one that beckoned for a dagger to its throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter was basically just me writing 'Ignis looks at something' - oh wait, he can't do that. *3 sentences later* 'Ignis looks at something else' - GODDAMMIT
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: This chapter turned out somewhat graphic in both the sex and the violence department (because balance). Nothing major though, so go right ahead and enjoy.

The human brain was a wondrous thing. It could lie and deceive and pretend with such persuasiveness that in time, it would simply lose track of the truth. And Prompto was pretending with abandon, longing for that blissful state of ignorance. Noct was pretending too, and both were aware of what the other was doing. But it didn’t really matter. Because the longer they pretended that everything was fine, the more genuine it felt. It had been awkward at first – the sideway glances, the hesitant touches, the hidden thoughts. But Noct and Prompto had gone through puberty together, they had lived through a ten-year separation that had left their relationship in a limbo of _familiar-yet-not-familiar_ , and they had gone from best friends to lovers with all the weirdness involved. They knew awkward. And Prompto didn’t mind a little awkwardness as long as it got rid of the perpetual fear of being questioned and scrutinized over and over again; of having to invent yet another excuse, another lie. And as they both pretended like that, without them realizing, it turned out to be just another evening. Noct’s duties had been taken care of for the day, Ignis would let them sleep in tomorrow, they had all the time they could want and not a worry in the world. Noct’s apartment felt warm and familiar and safe.

All of that couldn’t have been further from Prompto’s mind right now.

There wasn’t anything on his mind at all as he was pressed against the headboard of the bed - nothing but the feeling of Noct’s mouth slowly nibbling a path up his thigh, pausing at his hip just long enough to graze the skin with his teeth. Then he continued his agonizingly slow ascent, his lips and tongue caressing his lover’s stomach, his chest, his neck, until he finally caught his mouth in a kiss. Prompto parted his lips readily.

_Wanna pick up where we left off that night?_ , he had asked at some point that evening, when Ignis and Gladio had long since left and his eyes had started to itch from staring at the TV screen for hours. Noct had been hesitant at first, almost shy. As if he was worried that the memory of _that night_ right after Prompto had returned from Galdin might shatter their carefully maintained illusion of normality. If Prompto had thought about it, he might have come to the conclusion that the danger of inching close to those memories was more than outweighed by the prospect of sex; and that there was nothing better than the feeling of another body, of warmth and connection and bliss to forget one’s worries.

But he hadn’t thought about it. He’d just been really horny. And the outcome was the same, since Noct wasn’t one to turn down an invitation such as this.

Noct swung one of his legs over Prompto’s lap, straddling him. He started to grind down, skin on bare skin, until they were both panting into their kiss and Prompto thought that this was actually so much better than where they had left off before. Before had been lazy and sleepy, exhaustion sitting deep in his bones. Now he was wide awake, aware of every little shift of Noct’s weight sending a new jolt of excitement to his stomach. His hips bucked up into the touch and he wrapped his arms around Noct’s slender frame, pulling him closer. He raked his fingers through raven hair and let his lips wander over the stubble on his jaw. He could feel a content hum vibrating under the skin.

He couldn’t bite back a gasp as long fingers slipped between their bodies and started stroking him, teasing and pulling him ever closer towards the edge. He let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed, and felt himself unravel under Noct’s hands and the lips tracing the lines of his bared throat. The heat coiled in his stomach and he could almost taste his release on his lips as Noct pulled back. He opened his eyes with a protesting groan, but Noct just scurried backwards on the bed and beckoned him with a gentle pull at his wrist to lie down. Prompto obliged, barely noticing how much more comfortable the soft mattress felt than the hard edges of the headboard digging into his back. The fog in his mind was too heavy, his breathing too loud to notice anything but the feathery touch on his shoulder guiding him to lie on his stomach and then the warm weight of Noct’s body settling against his back. Noct peppered the nape of his neck with kisses but he rocked back against him urgently, half tease, half silent plea. He almost sighed in relief as a finger, already slick, pressed into him, eventually joined by a second and a third; pumping in and out and curling in the most delicious way, but never quite _enough._ There were soft moans falling from his lips and his fingers were tightly wound into the sheets as Noct pulled back his hand. It was replaced by a throbbing hardness that slid inside him until Noct’s hips were pressed flush against his, heavy breath tickling his neck. Muffled noises escaped between his teeth every time he was pressed against the mattress as Noct rocked into him. The heat was building in his stomach and then he felt those deft fingers sliding down his side and between his legs, taking him in hand once more. They pulled him towards the edge again and then right over it until he came undone with a strangled sound in his throat, his body trembling with pleasure.

Later that night, he fell asleep with Noct’s head resting against his shoulder and his arm slung lazily across his chest. The body next to him fitted perfectly against his; just a bit taller, just a bit broader, enough to wrap around him and hold him in an embrace that made him feel warm and safe and invincible. But there wasn’t anything remarkable about it. He felt just… normal. He felt happy.

Just for this one night, he let himself pretend without even realizing that he did.

***

_Three to go._

He was leaning against the cold rock, wedged into a little niche that gave him a pathetic cover from his pursuers. His shirt’s fabric was wet and sticky, clinging to his skin uncomfortably. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his shoulder, but the screaming pain had been replaced by a blissful cold numbness - at least as long as he stood still. Every little movement tore at the wound and send a sickening jolt of agony through his body. He risked a quick glance at his useless right arm; it was covered in red, dark drops falling from his fingertips. He tore away his gaze and swallowed the lump in his throat. His head was spinning. He wanted to sit down so badly, but he had to keep moving. He had to keep alert.

There were footsteps, somewhere behind the rock. Heavy boots crunching on gravel. Two steps, maybe three, and the man would see him.

As quietly as he could manage, he sank to his knees and trained his gun on the point where the hunter should appear in his field of vision.

One more step.

He saw little more than a dark silhouette against the blue sky. It was the gunman; he jumped around the corner, his weapon aiming at a point at breast hight, far above Prompto’s head. The hunter had no chance to correct his mistake before he was sent flying by a bullet hitting clean between his eyes. This time, Prompto was close enough to his target to see the man’s face distort and go slack. He had to fight the urge to throw up.

_Two to go._

There were voices, hasty steps approaching quickly at the sound of the gunshot. He ignored his nausea and knelt next to the body, grabbing the second gun and stuffing it behind his belt. Then he bolted, away from the voices, away from the corpse. One hand gliding along the rough surface of the rock to steady himself. He ran as quietly as he could, until he stood at the edge of the rock formation, nothing but flat ground and a few shrubs in front of him. The sun was still blazing down; his sweat mingled with the sticky blood coating his skin. He had nowhere left to hide.

The breath stung in his lungs and his fingers were trembling, painfully, reminding him that he hadn’t been in a real fight in over a year. Gladio had insisted on him continuing his combat training – overall strength and agility two times a week, hand-to-hand combat and shooting range another two times, all in addition to his running schedule. He had kept it up for a few months until he had started to find excuses. He’d had no intention of slacking off of course - just a few missed training sessions, cutting short a few more to have enough time for work, for photography or for hanging out with Noct. Stupid, stupid thing to do.

The voices came closer. He considered running across the open field, maybe reach the closest major road. Running was the one thing he had kept up whenever possible. He was good at running. But he was hardly in peak condition, and the thought of a full-on sprint across uneven terrain alone caused his wound to send another protesting pulse through his body.

So he backed up until he was firmly pressed against cool stone, facing the direction of the voices, and waited. 

The voices fell silent.

He kept waiting. The rock behind him protected his back, and there were multiple huge boulders littering the ground in front of him, leaving only a limited number of paths his pursuers could take to reach him. But there were still at least three different directions they could come from, and he had only one hand for shooting. He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate past his thundering heartbeat and the throbbing in his shoulder.

A movement to his right, in the very corner of his eye.

The gun in his hand came to life, pointing, shooting. Missing. The man dove for cover as the bullet whistled past him. Prompto kept the weapon trained on the spot where he had disappeared, ready to shoot again as soon as he saw as much as a hair peeking out from behind the rock.

He didn’t come as far.

The slightest sound of boots on gravel was the only warning he got; he whipped his head around and saw a blurry motion aimed at him. He jumped back, but not in time to avoid the blow. It threw him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. A dull ache spread across his chest. He hardly felt it; the only thing his mind could focus on was the reassuring weight of the gun missing from his hand. He scrambled to look for the weapon, spotting it in the grass nearby. He tried to crawl over to grab it – why did his limbs feel so heavy? – but then a dusty boot appeared in his field of vision and kicked it out of reach. Prompto watched it skid across the ground with a sense of finality settling in his gut. Slowly, he let his eyes wander back to the boot and upwards until he looked at a man sneering down at him with a distorted canine grin.

Wolf’s shirt was soaked in sweat from running under the burning sun. He was holding a shortsword, the broad blade spattered with blood. Prompto felt his eyebrows knot together in confusion as he stared at the soiled steel. Where was the blood coming from?

The ache in his chest grew stronger. He gritted his teeth and waited for the wave of pain to subside, all while keeping his eyes on Wolf who strolled in his direction with a triumphant grin; his motions were unhurried as if he had all the time in the world.

The pain didn’t subside. It just kept growing stronger and then the ache was joined by a burning sensation spreading along his ribs. At some point he couldn’t take it anymore and risked taking his eyes off the hunter to glance down at his chest.

His breath caught in his throat as he numbly stared at the huge gash in his shirt, the edges of the fabric already soaked dark red. As soon as he laid eyes on it, the burning grew into a roaring inferno. There were black blotches dancing in front of his eyes and the ground seemed to sway beneath him. Instincts honed over years and years of experience clicked into place and without thinking, he reached out for the Armiger to summon a potion, an elixir, _something_ \- but the faint trace of magic ran through his fingers like sand.

Wolf stopped and crouched down next to him. He had discarded his sword, but there was a dagger in his hand now, almost as long as his forearm and wickedly sharp. He pointed it at Prompto’s throat with a sardonic smile.

‘You’re really lucky your corpse would get us only half as much cash’, he spat. ‘Otherwise I would gut you like a fish for butchering my pals.’

Prompto’s mind was already thinking of several sassy answers – if just to distract itself from the pain that was still crushing his chest and turning his stomach – but he really didn’t feel like joking about dead people. Not even if they had come after him; not after watching them die with _his_ bullets piercing their bodies. He would have to talk to Gladio about having the human-shaped targets in the shooting range replaced. He didn’t think that he would be able to stomach that for quite some time. He was a _daemonhunter_ , Ifrit’s balls – he wasn’t supposed to shoot humans.

Wolf interrupted his disconnected thoughts by grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing his face so close that their noses were almost touching.

‘Better not do anything stupid now, little tin can’, he hissed.

‘We’ll see about that’, Prompto choked out – speaking hurt, it hurt so much more than just breathing.

Wolf frowned. Then his eyes flickered down to where the muzzle of a gun was pressed to his side. The dead hunter’s gun Prompto had picked up earlier. It was angled upwards; the bullet would tear apart half of his lung before piercing his heart.

His eyes widened, but he could not react before Prompto pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed between the rocks.

Wolf’s heavy body slumped to the ground next to him and he hurried to scurry away from it as far as he could manage before collapsing on the grass again. For a moment, he allowed himself to just breathe and feel the relief deep in his bones, even if the air hissing through his lungs seemed thick and heavy like lukewarm syrup and the adrenaline draining from his body caused the pain from his wounds to feel clearer and sharper than before. His eyelids grew heavy and his limbs seemed fused to the ground. There was fog in his brain and despite the heat he felt cold and so, so tired.

He jolted up in panic as he realized that his consciousness had started to slip away. With clenched teeth, he flexed his fingers and reached out for the Armiger again. Nothing happened. His heart was beating too fast, fluttering in his chest like a caged bird. He focussed and tried again. Nothing. The wound on his chest was still bleeding sluggishly. He couldn’t feel his shoulder anymore.

He lost track of how many times he tried, but finally, a cool weight appeared in his hand. He stared at the smooth shape for a few heartbeats before realizing that he had succeeded. Bending his fingers far enough to shatter the flask seemed an unsurmountable task, but once he had managed to will his body to comply, the relief was instant. The Hi-potion flooded his veins with crackling energy, dulling the pain and replacing it with the familiar itch of flesh knitting itself back together.

He blinked after the feeling had ebbed away, drawing in one deep breath of delicious sweet air, his chest expanding with nothing more than a dull ache like from a fresh bruise. He kept lying in the grass like that, tasting the air and staring up into the blue sky, waiting for his heart to slow down.

He jumped at the sound of hasty footsteps, grabbing the gun he had dropped and scrambling to his feet. His head spun at the sudden movement and he staggered; his legs felt weak and unsteady and his fingers were trembling. The potion had repaired the worst damage, but he was far from fine.

And he had forgotten about the fifth hunter, the one he had missed before Wolf had sneaked up on him.

Now the man was standing there, his stance battle-ready, the second gun in his hands pointed at Prompto. Neither of them moved a muscle. It was the hunter who finally broke the silence.

‘Listen up. How I see it, I’m not dragging you anywhere on my own. And you’re not doing shit in your condition. So why not call it a draw?’

Prompto stared at him. He was a young man, probably close to his own age. Wiry muscles, his hair a dirty blond. There was a small crescent shaped scar on his right cheek, right beneath the eye. He looked so very human.

‘Who paid you?’ His voice came out grating but much steadier than he felt. He tightened his grip on the gun as the hunter shrugged.

‘Don’t know, don’t care. Boss’s the one taking contracts.’ He glanced at Wolf’s body for a second, then looked back at Prompto with a quirked eyebrow. ‘He did, anyway. Bit of an asshole, if you ask me. Had it coming a long way.’

‘You really want me to believe that you don’t know who you were working for?’, Prompto asked. Scar’s chattiness irritated him and tore at his nerves. His finger at the trigger felt twitchy but he willed it to stillness.

‘Easy there, I have no bird in this race. No reason to lie to you.’ Another nonchalant shrug. ‘Heard them talk once. Sounded like a Niff, if you ask me.’

Suddenly, Scar’s eyes narrowed, and he gave Prompto a sharp look. ‘Hey, you really one of those MTs?’

Prompto jerked his gun in the other’s direction in a warning gesture. He thought that Noct probably would have shot the guy on principle alone by now. Gladio on the other hand wouldn’t have left enough of him to shoot.

‘Little piece of friendly advice? Don’t ask me that when I’m holding a gun.’ Or when he was tired and hurting and feeling like death, with his patience hanging by a thread. Or when he had already killed four people today.

‘Fair point.’ Scar lowered his head in something that could have been an apology and started to slowly retreat in the direction of the car that was still parked on the side of the road where the hunters had left it. He didn’t take his eyes - or his gun - off Prompto though.

‘If I were you, I’d keep this quiet’, he added as he had gotten almost far enough to disappear around a corner. ‘For the sake of my own hide, obviously, but… you might not have noticed in your clean Crown City, but the Niff refugees and the Lucians are already at each other’s throats all across the whole damn continent. Wouldn’t want to give them more fuel. Call it… a little bit of friendly advice.’

He shot Prompto a grin and disappeared behind the rocks before the blond could think about whether it was a good idea to let him leave. The sound of his footsteps died away quickly.

Prompto waited until he heard the sound of a car engine coming to life and fading in the distance. Then he waited some more until his legs felt a bit steadier and moving around didn’t make him want to throw up anymore. He stuffed the gun behind his belt and looked around, trying to assess where he was and how long it would take him to get back to Galdin Quay. Two hours in his current condition, maybe three. And the sun was still burning.

_I’m so screwed._

Finally, he managed to overcome his disgust and searched the pockets of the dead hunters for anything of use. He found a bit of extra ammunition and two cereal bars he gobbled down quickly. It made him feel a bit less lightheaded. The last thing he took was the jacket one of the hunters had slung around his waist, in hopes that it would cover enough of his blood-soaked clothes to not raise suspicion once he reached the Quay. Then he started on his trek back to the coast.

***

It took him almost three hours until he finally stumbled into the caravan, his legs barely supporting his weight and his wounds throbbing with each step despite the potion he had used. His throat was parched, and his head hurt from the sun beating down on him. He crumpled on the floor and reached out for the fridge, taking out a bottle of water and chugging it down. His stomach rebelled and he could barely keep himself from throwing it right back up. He had to sit for a few moments to compose himself, then he somehow managed to shuffle to the miniature bathroom to take a cold shower. It took him a lot of scrubbing to get rid of the blood caking his skin. He looked down and watched the water, tinted red, disappear into the drain. The bullet wound in his shoulder stung as he raised his right arm to stare at the black lines blemishing the skin on his wrist.

_You’re really lucky your corpse would get us only half as much cash._

_Sounded like a Niff, if you ask me._

_I always wondered what those tin cans look like under their masks._

He leaned his forehead against the cool wall of the shower and let the water stream over his shoulders and back. Now that he wasn’t fearing for his life anymore, the reality of the situation slowly started to sink in.

Someone had payed a bunch of hunters to catch him like a stray animal. Someone from Niflheim. Someone who knew who – _what_ – he was. In an unbidden thought, there were two persons coming to his mind who fit the bill and were maniacal enough to make such an effort. The thought alone made him sick and he banished it quickly. None of them were possible suspects, after all – Noct had killed the first, twice. He himself had killed the second. Twice _._ Which meant that there was a third lunatic out there to continue the proud tradition.

_Isn’t that just peachy._

He asked himself if he should panic. It seemed the appropriate time to panic. But he felt just paralyzed. And tired.

He stepped out of the shower and put on some worn clothes. He found his phone in the pocket of his blood-stained pants; by some miracle, it was still working. The display showed a whole number of unread text messages. Suddenly, there was an ache in his chest; the burning urge to go home, curl up in bed next to Noct and forget that this day had ever happened. Before he even knew it, his fingers had formulated an answer and hit the send-button.

[Prom] Sry, got sidetracked…

[Prom] On my way home

Home. Yes. He would go home.

He didn’t wait for a response but started to pack his things inastead. It wasn’t much, just his clothes, his washbag, his laptop. His camera was still sitting on the table where he had left it before the day had taken the wrong turn, thank the Six. He just threw his bloodstained clothes into a plastic bag as a new thought occurred to him, making him freeze on the spot.

_What am I going to tell Noct?_

He half-heartedly hoped that he wouldn’t have to tell him anything, that maybe he wouldn’t even notice something out of order had happened. But Noct was far too good at picking up his mood, not to mention Ignis’s near superhuman mind-reading skills. Still, Scar’s _friendly advice_ was echoing inside his head with dreadful clarity. Niflheim had been hit hardest by the daemon-outbreak, leaving the former empire in chaos while its government had crumbled. The relationship between the Lucians and the refugees that had made it across the sea both before and after the Dawn was strained, but manageable. So far. Prompto did not doubt that there would be unrest if the King of Lucis were to start an investigation amongst the refugees, especially after pledging to support the civilians that had fled to his lands. On the other hand, there were probably a whole number of people capable of raiding refugee camps if the rumour got out that a Niff had arranged an attack on a Crown citizen.

He threw the clothes into his duffle bag and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples. He had no clue about politics, and after all the nasty revelations the day had brought him, he really had no mind to consider diplomatic issues. He knew that he should probably talk to Ignis – Ignis would know what to do. But he couldn’t. Maybe Ignis would tell Noct. Maybe he wouldn’t, but Noct would get suspicious anyway. And then he would act rashly and endanger what he had worked so hard to build; or he wouldn’t, but then he would still worry about Prompto when he had so many other, more important things to worry about. So he couldn’t talk about it.

But most importantly, he didn’t _want_ to talk about it. About anything. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to forget.

He gathered his things, returned the caravan’s key and before long, he was on the road again. He didn’t open the convertible’s roof, even though the air inside the car was hot and stuffy. He kept feeling eyes watching him from the side of the road, and the tinted windows helped at least a little bit to block their inquisitive gazes. He couldn’t wait to be behind Insomnia’s walls again. Everything else, he just had to figure out once he got there.

***

He jerked awake, staring at the velvety black of the room with wide eyes. Noct was breathing evenly next to him. The apartment was silent besides the humming of the fridge and the soft footsteps of a guard on the corridor. He snuggled deeper into the covers and closed his eyes again, but sleep wouldn’t come. His scars were aching. Finally, he sat up with a sigh and sneaked into the bathroom, retrieving the pack of painkillers and the salve the doctor had given him on the way. He swallowed one of the pills and washed it down with water, then he pulled his shirt over his head and started to rub the salve on the scars. He didn’t know if it would help with the pain, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt. He pulled a face at the feeling of the unfamiliar hard tissue under his fingers.

When he glanced up into the mirror, he froze. Noct was standing in the door behind him, arms crossed and leaning against the frame. He was watching him silently, his expression unreadable in the dark. Then he stood up straight and walked into the room. Prompto already pulled in a breath to stutter something, maybe an excuse, but Noct simply took the salve jar from his hands.

‘Here, let me help you with that.’

The salve was cold on his skin but Noct’s fingers were warm and gentle. Neither of them spoke until he was done; then he picked up the shirt from the floor and held it out to Prompto.

‘Come back to bed?’, he asked.

Prompto stared at him; there was just enough light coming from the window to outline his figure, his ruffled hair, the threadbare shirt he wore for sleeping, the defined lines of his body under the fabric. His eyes glinted in the dark, their expression sleepy and soft and warm. Prompto didn’t deserve any of it. But he just nodded and let Noct pull him back towards the bedroom. They slipped under the covers and Noct wrapped his arms around him, his grip tight as if he wanted to keep him from falling apart. It felt good. It felt as if things could be right again.

The second time Prompto fell asleep that night, he did so with a smile on his lips. And he didn’t have to pretend at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! There was some real life-ing to do and I didn't really get to sit down and write in peace. That and I had a bit of a writer's block since my brain came up with yet another plot for yet another fic, so maybe there'll be somethig to look forward to once I finished this one. But one thing after the other, so... enjoy!

Gladio dropped the last load of rubble on the pile that marred the once meticulously well-tended garden surrounding the Amicitia manor. He was drenched in sweat and his arms and shoulders were aching. Nevertheless, there was a deep feeling of satisfaction as he stepped back inside the house, the deserted rooms still cold and dusty, but at least free of the debris that had piled up since its residents had fled. Or died. The empty office on the top floor was a silent reminder; there, the presence of his father could still be felt like a faint echo. But the memories were no longer painful, not after all this time. It felt good to remember, in a quiet, melancholic sort of way. But Gladio had never been the quiet or melancholic type, therefore he didn’t dwell on the memories for too long.

He didn’t know if his old man would have approved of him spending his scarce free time rebuilding an old house that no one would live in, since Iris had settled down in Lestallum – as much as Iris the Daemonslayer would ever settle down – and he himself wanted to remain as close to Noct as possible. He’d already failed in his duty as Shield once. Even if he’d been pitted against the Astrals and destiny itself, it had still been a failure. There wouldn’t be a second one.

But Noct had said he needed a hobby that got him away from the New Palace (which translated to _his mood got unbearable if he didn’t kick back now and then and Ignis got close to killing him with his bare hands for sheer annoyance a few times too many)_. So he had buried himself in the task of clearing rubble out of empty rooms, repairing the roof, cleaning old furniture of dust and cobwebs and smoothing out the claw marks on the walls. There would probably be no one to appreciate it; but sometimes he thought. Other guys his age were settling down, starting a family. He wasn’t other guys and had no intention of following suit any time soon, but maybe… maybe some day. It would be good to have a house, then.

On the other hand, this was just a thought to justify the hours and hours he spent rebuilding his childhood home, a thought without much substance. After all, the Amicitias had always been bound to the royal line, and the royal line was ending. There wouldn’t be a King after Noct, so it would be fitting if there wouldn’t be a Shield after Gladio. There was still Iris to uphold the family name, if she ever stopped hunting for long enough to find a man (and Gladio would be totally fine with it if she never did, because otherwise he would have to break the poor guy’s legs just a little, Daemonslayer or no). Yeah, maybe once Iris’s temper had cooled a bit, she would have a family. One day. But when he looked at the manor slowly returning to its old splendour, he had the faint feeling that he himself would probably be lost to the swamp of history along with his liege; not the worst of fates, in his opinion. At least now that he had gotten over his initial reluctance at Noct’s idea to just get rid of the whole monarchy altogether once Lucis had found its footing in the new world. At first he had guessed that it had mostly to do with the new _thing_ between Noct and Prompto, since heirs to a royal line didn’t tend to pop out of thin air and a love life utterly devoid of female company tended to complicate matters in that regard. It would have been an understandable reason, though still inacceptable. But it had turned out that this was only one fraction of the reasoning behind Noct’s decision he’d had to admit that His Royal Majesty had for once thought out things pretty well. Well enough that not even Gladio’s bullhead could have found something wrong about the whole _time for real change_ and _the purpose of the line of Lucis has been fulfilled_ talk. So the swamp of history it was.

He shook his head as he entered the living room and leaned against the heavy oak table in order to move it back into its original position from where he had shoved it against a wall. Working on the house always made him far too nostalgic for his taste. He’d have to work off his philosophic outburst in the gym later. For now, he trudged up the stairs to take a shower as soon as he was done refurnishing the living room - getting the water running in this place had been one of his first and greatest accomplishments. After cleaning up, he would crack open a cold beer, sit down on the couch or maybe even the porch with a good book and enjoy the rest of his evening basking in the fruits of his labour.

Gladio snorted at the hopelessly cliché and yet very much tempting image. He really was getting old.

***

He had just finished the first chapter as he was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He looked up from his book with a frown. His first thought was that something had happened with Noct in his absence – because that was always his first thought – but in that case, they would have called him instead of showing up on his doorstep. And there was really no other good reason to bother him on one of his rare free days. It hadn’t even been his own idea to take the day off; Noct had a public speech about the progress of the rebuilding effort coming up tomorrow and planning the security measures was a real pain in the ass. But Noct and Ignis had both convinced him that everything was set up and ready and he might as well enjoy a bit of free time while they went through the speech once more, so he would be rested and focussed the next day. Or they just wanted him out of their hair in order to get some work done. Probably the latter. But since he’d been officially dismissed from work, he’d been determined to savour it. That is, until someone had chosen to disturb him.

With an annoyed grunt he placed the book on the coffee table and went to answer the door.

He threw it open with the full intent to give the person on the other side a dressing-down for interrupting his first real alone-time in weeks – and bit back the words as he saw who was standing in front of him.

Prompto was half turned away from the door, as if he had changed his mind and tried to sneak away before being caught. His hair was damp, the usual bold spikes weighed down by the light drizzle that filled the evening air. His shoulders were drawn up to his ears, but Gladio had the impression that it wasn’t just to protect himself from the chill. The whole lanky figure was hunched, curled in on itself. He looked even scrawnier than usual, and there was a haunted expression in his huge blue eyes as his head snapped towards the opening door.

‘Look what the cat dragged in… what are you doing here?’, Gladio drawled, trying to sound casual and unconcerned. Maybe a bit amused. Yeah, that was probably a good vibe to go for.

Of course it was perfectly legitimate for one of his friends to come over to hang out. They just never did. The four of them chilled at Noct’s place whenever their duties allowed it, and retreating to their own homes (or in Gladio’s case his personal playground slash construction site) usually meant that they were down for some quality time with themselves. So Prompto’s appearance at his doorstep was unusual, but what really kicked Gladio’s brain into gear was the way the blond glanced around at the dark street and empty houses around him before shuffling closer to the door. He would have blamed the suspicious look on whatever shit Prompto had gone through on his trip, were it not for the fact that he had seemed so much better after Noct had offered his cease-fire (and after they had presumably fucked each other’s brains out, since that was the only way anyone could have resolved that much tension in such a short time). Gladio wasn’t Ignis, and he wasn’t as familiar with Prompto as Noct was; but even _h_ _e_ could smell that something about the kid was off, and more so than it had been a few days before. Back then, he had just avoided their questions until Noct’s insistence had driven him into hiding for good; but now, he didn’t just seem overall upset and withdrawn. He was frightened, the kind of frightened you only got when something _very_ real was after you and you could feel it closing in from behind, hot breath already on your neck.

Which brought up the question of why in the name of the Six he had come to _Gladio’s_ door instead of Noct’s. There were delicate feelings involved here, and that made Gladio possibly the worst go-to person on Eos. 

Now Prompto cast one more glance over his shoulder and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

‘Uhm, I was just… I was… wondering… uhm. If maybe I could… crash here for tonight?’

Gladio blinked. ‘Why?’, he asked bluntly, unable to think of a better answer. He realized that he should probably get his friend out of the rain; he looked cold, small shivers running down his gangly limbs. The Shield stepped aside and gestured for him to come inside with a jerk of his chin. Prompto slipped past him with his head ducked low, as if trying to disappear in the shadows that filled the corners of the house. Then he stood in the hallway, arms slung around his chest and shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

‘Sorry for barging in like that, it’s just, uh… My place is… A pipe broke somewhere in the building and it smells really bad and they won’t get it fixed before tomorrow, so… yeah.’

That was bullshit if Gladio had ever heard some, but he just accepted the flimsy excuse with a shrug. The last attempts at pressuring Prompto into talking hadn’t ended well after all; and if he was here, Gladio could at least keep an eye on him.

‘Sure, make yourself at home.’

He waved the blond into the living room and Prompto took the invitation hesitantly after kicking off his damp shoes.

‘I think one of the guest rooms is inhabitable by now, I’ll make you a bed there.’ He started to climb the stairs, gesturing at the kitchen as he did.

‘Help yourself if you’re hungry, I have Cup Noodles or Cup Noodles. Beer’s in the fridge.’

‘Yeah… thanks.’

Prompto sat down on the couch, but he didn’t sprawl like a scrawny starfish as he usually did as soon as he hit a soft surface. Instead, he curled up in the corner, hugging his knees and staring at the dark windows. Gladio shook his head and headed upstairs in search for the least mouldy and smelly pillow and blanket the house had to offer. For a moment he thought about how he probably should have gotten more stuff than just a sleeping bag for himself. But his mind soon returned to the more pressing dilemma at hand. At first, he had been all for Ignis’s plan to let Prompto settle down for a bit instead of questioning him, if just because it had been almost painful to watch how much Noct had screwed up the latter. But that had been before day after day had passed and Prompto still hadn’t budged one inch. By now, Gladio _really_ wanted to go back to the living room and shake that broomstick with hair until he spilled everything. He wasn’t delusional – he was very well aware that his growing anger was fuelled by worry for his friend. But worry was sneaky and complicated - it ate away at the mind and settled there in secret like a parasite. Anger on the other hand could be vented, it could be managed. He could deal with anger, so he’d much rather focus on that. The only thing holding him back right now was the knowledge that he would probably make everything worse and then Ignis would throttle him for screwing up his plans. He could understand the advisor’s reasoning, and his reluctance to cause their friend any more distress. Hell, _he_ didn’t want to cause him any more distress, and he was usually the first one to speak – or rather yell – his mind, no matter the consequences. But Prompto had been back in Insomnia for almost a week now, and Gladio’s patience was wearing thin. At some point, Ignis would really have to throttle him – and given Prompto’s stubbornness it would probably be rather sooner than later.

***

There was a car parked in front of his house. While it wasn’t exactly uncommon for cars to be parked on the side of the street, Gladio was pretty sure that this particular vehicle had no business being there. First of all, it didn’t belong in the neighbourhood; it wasn’t from Insomnia at all, and it was far too run-down and old to fit into this rather lofty residential area. Second of all, there were two sketchy guys sitting in there, watching the lit windows of the house. Now Gladio wouldn’t take kindly to people loitering in the street and ogling his home, even under normal circumstances. But the car and the men and Prompto’s haunted eyes were all starting to fit together in a _very_ ugly picture. He had to put in a lot of effort to not storm out into the rain and drive his broadsword through the dirty front shield on principle alone as he imagined them lingering in front of the blond’s apartment building, following his every move until the panic drove him to flee to the closest of his friends’ homes.

He tapped his fingers on the widow frame. The room he was standing in was dark so the men wouldn’t be able to see him, but he could in turn watch _them_ all the better. But the dim light from the street lanterns didn’t help much and all he could make out were two dark figures that did little aside from staring and shifting their heads from time to time as if talking to each other. Gladio’s fingers itched to take the matter into his own hand’s, but he restrained himself. Forced his brain to think calmly and logically for once. He could kill the men outside before they even saw him coming, but that wouldn’t help him. He needed them in a cell, safely locked away from Prompto and alive enough for an extended chat about their goals (that and Ignis would not only throttle him but gut him slowly if he were to assault civilians whose crimes he was not at least two hundred percent sure of). Apprehending them mostly unharmed was not something he could accomplish on his own, not with two people at once. Plus, with the way his blood was boiling right now, he would probably cause a scene. A large one.

Therefore, he gritted his teeth and pulled out his phone.

 _‘Captain?’_ , a female voice answered him. ‘ _What can I do for you?’_

‘Monica’, he greeted her in a clipped voice. ‘Send four men to the Amicitia manor. They’ll find two people in a car outside on the street, possibly armed. They’re to take them into custody. _Discreetly._ ’

_‘May I ask on what charges?’_

‘I don’t like ‘em.’

There was a telling silence on the other end of the line that had him utter an annoyed sigh. ‘Alright, alright… They’re suspected to have taken part in a violent assault on a Crown citizen. Possibly espionage, or blackmailing, or both. Make sure to hold them for questioning.’

_‘Yes, sir. Although, with the public event coming up, we don’t have enough manpower to conduct a full interrogation right away…’_

Gladio shot the car outside another dark look and clicked his tongue impatiently. Right. The speech. _Shitty timing._

‘That’s fine. I’ll see to it after the official circus is done with. I just need them off the streets for now.‘

_‘Very well. The team is on its way.’_

‘Thanks, Monica.’

He ended the call and put away his phone. _See, Iggy – I_ can _be reasonable,_ he thought almost smugly. But then he remembered that there was still a certain blond glued to his couch that needed tending to. Because the creeps in the car weren’t the only ones he would have to have a little chat with, oh no. Enough was enough – and in Gladio’s books, people observing his home in the fashion of a bad spy movie was definitely enough.

***

‘Don’t worry about your friends out there – Crownsguard will take care of them.’

Prompto tore his gaze away from the window at the sound of Gladio’s voice. He stared at the taller man for two or three heartbeats, confusion evident in his deep blue eyes.

‘Friends?’, he echoed.

Gladio crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at him with a frown. Prompto seemed impossibly young the way he was folded up in the corner of the couch, arms hugging his knees. At the same time, the fine lines around his eyes and mouth stood out more prominently than usual, worry and exhaustion etched deeply into his face.

‘Those guys in the car, the ones with a deep fascination for lit windows? I figured you weren’t too keen on their company.’

The blue eyes widened for the fraction of a second, then Prompto’s expression locked down like a gate shutting in his mind, carefully concealing everything behind it.

‘I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

With an annoyed _tsk_ , Gladio stepped closer until his imposing figure loomed over the blond, glaring down at him.

‘Listen up, pipsqueak. If you wanted someone to pat your head and ignore your shitty excuses, you should have gone to Noct or Iggy. But you came to me, so deal with it.’

Prompto sunk deeper into the cushions, making himself smaller. But Gladio wasn’t finished.

‘I went along with this circus because I _trusted_ you to tell us if there was still any danger to you, or to anyone else. But the person closest to the King is being stalked inside the walls of the fucking Crown City, and I’m done. I really wanted to give you time or whatever the hell you need to come down from your paranoia trip, but this is my fucking job now and you’re not making it easier for me.’

The blond stared up to him with wide eyes and Gladio already regretted his harsh words. He didn’t _like_ snapping at people, but like hell he would stop speaking his mind. Because he was _right_ , dammit.

‘They’re not… I don’t think…’, Prompto stammered. He shook his head frantically, pulling up his shoulders to his ears. ‘It’s not about Noct. I don’t think it is.’

‘How do you know?’, Gladio demanded to know. The blue eyes shied away from his burning amber gaze, but he was not about to back down now. Prompto worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, shrinking under the scrutiny. But his mouth remained shut.

‘Those the same hunters who assaulted you in Galdin?’, Gladio changed tactics. He indicated the street with a jerk of his head. The blond shook his head, but there was no further protest about the statement. Which was telling in itself, as Gladio determined with a hint of satisfaction.

‘So it _were_ the hunters you met there who assaulted you.’

Prompto’s gaze snapped back towards his face, his eyes going wide. He stared at the Shield for a small eternity, then something seemed to crumble behind the blue irises. He nodded, slowly, the movement barely visible.

Gladio sighed, finally dropping his aggressive demeanour, and sat down heavily on the couch. He rubbed a hand over his face and then shot a wary glance towards the ball of limbs and blond hair next to him.

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’, he asked, his voice a lot lower and softer than before. Prompto’s defence had already cracked, no need to kick him while he was down.

‘Because… because Noct’s got enough to worry about already.’

Gladio snorted at that, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Kid, I like you, but sometimes I can’t believe what a dense idiot you are’, he said, ignoring Prompto’s small frown at the nickname. Okay, maybe it was a bit weird to call a man in his thirties _kid_ , especially since he was just a few years older. But if the blond decided to act like one, he would call it as it was. ‘In case you didn’t notice, he’s already worried about you. We _all_ are.’

The blue eyes didn’t look at him. Slim fingers were picking at a loose thread on the couch’s cushions, anything to distract from Gladio’s gaze.

‘He would have tried to get revenge. I can’t turn him against his subjects, not now.’

The words seemed flat, like something he had repeated to himself over and over again in an attempt to make himself believe in them. From the looks of it, he hadn’t succeeded.

‘So why didn’t you talk to Iggy at least? You know you’re supposed to tell him anything that could cause public backlash.’

Gladio watched Prompto flinch at his words. _So he had thought about that himself._ The Shield waited with all the patience he could muster for the next argument the blond would bring up in defence of himself.

This time, it took longer for Prompto to speak up. His fidgeting grew worse, and he gnawed at his lip with a fervour that had Gladio worry he might draw blood.

‘I couldn’t… I can’t… I don’t want to feel like a burden again.’

_Ah, shit._

Gladio scratched his neck awkwardly, because this conversation had taken a turn towards the delicate, personal feelings he had dreaded so much. Not because he preferred to be oblivious or dismissive, but because he knew that he was bad at handling them. Chances were, he would make everything worse.

‘Okay, listen. I know you have some issues with… self esteem or whatever, but you’re not-‘

‘I _know_!’

The Shield blinked at the sudden outburst and shut his mouth with a click of his teeth. Prompto was trembling, his face flushed, but finally, _finally_ there were words spilling out of him like a dam had been broken.

‘I know, okay? But- but I also know that my brain won’t stop telling me I am, and that everything is _my fault,_ and… and after you came for me in Zegnautus keep, and Noct was gone, I just… I kept thinking that maybe, if you hadn’t come for me first, if it wasn’t for me, everything would have gone differently. It took me _years_ to get rid of that, to stop thinking that it’s because I’m a freak and because I couldn’t look out for myself that Noct was gone and the whole world went to hell and I couldn’t do _anything_ and… I can’t… I can’t do it again, Gladio. I _can’t._ ’

He clasped his shaking fingers in his lap, the gaze of his blue eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

‘I thought I got over it, that everything was fine for once… and now, it’s all going to hell _again_ and I can’t help thinking _again_ that it’s all just because of me and because of _what I am_ …’

He drew in a shaky breath and finally lifted his head to look at Gladio. His eyes were surprisingly dry, but his gaze seemed dull and so tired.

‘I _know_ it’s not really my fault… I _know._ But…’

He threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. Gladio wished Ignis was here, or Noct, or even Iris or anyone who was better at providing comfort than himself. He tentatively reached out and laid a hand on the blond’s shoulder, squeezing it gently and hoping that the touch would be enough to convey the sentiment behind it. At the same time, he asked himself what the hell those hunters had said and done to make all these old insecurities well up again. _Because of what I am_ , Prompto had said. Not _who I am._ Somehow, Gladio doubted that it had been a simple slip of the tongue, not when he knew his friend well enough to have noticed him using this particular phrase whenever his origins were concerned. But hardly anyone knew about those, so what would they have to do with a group of rogue hunters preying on him? Maybe they had been targeting people born in the empire – it wouldn’t have been the first, if the most violent incident between Niffs and Lucians Gladio had heard of. Something about all of this was itching in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t make sense of it just yet.

Before he could say anything else though, there was the sound of screeching tires and muffled shouts on the street. They both bolted upright, listening to the noise; Prompto with wide eyes and Gladio with grim satisfaction. It wasn’t long until it faded and silence settled back over the sleeping neighbourhood. Shortly after, Gladio’s phone rang.

He didn’t exchange more than a few words with the person on the other end before settling back on the couch with Prompto and clapping him on the shoulder.

‘Alright kid, one less thing to worry about. Those guys are in for a little vacation in the Crownsguard’s holding cells.’

The blond blinked at him silently; there was a whole cascade of feelings flickering through his eyes but Gladio thought that, yeah, that was definitely relief right there.

‘Okay, here’s what we gonna do’, he said. Calm, determined. Something to hold on to. Blue eyes clung to his lips like he was a lifeline. ‘We let those two get settled in their new cells. Tomorrow, during the speech, you do your photographer-thing, but you stay in sight of at least one Crownsguard at all times. Tell them if anyone looks at you funny again, or call me. And after the speech is done, we’ll talk this through with Noct and Iggy. No excuses’, he added as Prompto opened his mouth to protest. ‘We’ll figure this out. Together.’

Prompto lowered his eyes, but then he nodded. ‘Alright’, he breathed.

‘Good.’ Gladio leaned back on the couch, satisfied with the answer. ‘Now, how ‘bout some Cup Noodles?’


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left kudos or comments on this fic, you really make my day every single time! Just had to get it out :D

The blare of his alarm ripped Noct from sleep’s sweet embrace and cruelly dropped him in a room that was much too bright to his squinting eyes, in a bed that was too comfortable and tempting to leave. He didn’t put in the extra effort to check the time – it was _early,_ that was all that mattered. The alarm was loud and shrill and nerve-racking, enough so that not even he could have slept through it. Which was the point, but it also meant that he started his day with what felt like a minor heart attack and the beginnings of a headache already blooming on the inside of his skull. Groaning, he fumbled for the bedside table to stop the offending noise. Blissful silence filled the room as soon as he succeeded. He contemplated turning around and going back to sleep, but there were muffled sounds coming from the kitchen and he knew Ignis would make his life a literal hell if he were to sleep in today of all days.

Noct heaved his body into an approximately upright position while desperately trying to remember how to function as a human being despite the early hour. The memory of the day’s tight schedule Ignis had drilled into his brain did not help one bit and it took a lot of effort to convince his limbs to move. He shuffled into the bathroom, threw off his sleeping clothes and turned the shower so cold that he began to shiver after a few seconds. It helped to clear the sleepy haze in his head somewhat, but now he was tired and miserable _and_ cold. He let out a deep sigh. This day was off to a great start.

After getting dressed and arranging his appearance into something reasonably presentable, he trudged towards the kitchen. As expected, Ignis was standing at the counter, handling pots and pans with expert ease. Noct paused however as he noticed the second visitor sitting at the table. Prompto was slouching in his chair idly chatting with the advisor, one arm thrown over the backrest and an easy smile lighting up his face. The sight caused a warm feeling in Noct’s chest and he felt a smile of his own tugging at his lips.

‘Morning’, he greeted the two of them.

Prompto’s head snapped around to face him and for the fraction of a moment, he stared at him like a startled deer. The expression was quickly replaced by a broad grin though and Noct choose to pretend he had never seen it in the first place. Especially since the way the blond’s face lit up and he slung an arm around Noct’s waist as soon as the other man stepped closer to his chair felt so genuinely carefree. And Noct thought that maybe, just maybe, the startled expression had just been due to his sudden entrance and nothing more.

‘Mornin’ there, sleeping beauty’, Prompto answered, playfully nuzzling into Noct’s side. The other snorted.

‘Feel more like a cave troll right now, but thanks.’

‘Ready for the big show?’

Noct groaned and dislodged the arm from his waist, slipping on one of the empty chairs around the table. He stopped just short of planting his face on the cool surface – mostly because he still felt as if he would fall right back asleep as soon as he assumed an even slightly horizontal position.

‘Don’t remind me. Not before breakfast.’

He thought that in the past, Ignis would have reprimanded him for showing such little enthusiasm for his royal duties. But they had come to somewhat of an arrangement during these last months, and that was that Noct’s or any of their apartments was a protocol-free zone. Ignis could bow and call him _Your Majesty_ to his heart’s content once they were outside these doors, and Noct would be the steadfast and graceful king his people expected – and deserved - him to be (with exceptions whenever the public eye was averted, of course). In return, he could be _just_ _Noct_ in the safety and privacy of his own home, and _just Noct_ would groan and complain as much as he pleased, thank you very much.

Which didn’t keep Prompto from teasing him about it.

‘Aww, c’mon. You’ll be great, I know it’, the blond beamed, poking him with his elbow. Noct just sighed, but inwardly, he cheered at the comfortable banter and uncomplicated physical proximity the other man offered. Prompto had been better these last few days, but he couldn’t help but feel that something had finally popped that lingering knot of tension between them. There was still a sort of nervous energy around the blond – his voice pitched a bit too high, his hands gesturing a bit too fast – but all in all, he seemed as if the turmoil inside his head had settled at last. Noct wanted to tell him, wanted to say that he was proud of him for working through the hard time he’d had and happy that he’d found his smile again. But something told him that reminding the blond of that emotional ordeal would do little good right now. So instead, in an attempt to convey his feelings, he reached out to him, hand cupping a freckled cheek and thumb brushing his lower lip, and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss to the other’s mouth.

Prompto seemed pleasantly surprised and Noct could feel him smile against his lips as he returned the kiss. Their touch was gentle and tender and as Noct pulled back, there was a faint blush spreading underneath the blond’s freckles.

‘So, uhm… what was that for?’

‘Nothing’, Noct answered nonchalantly. ‘Just needed you to shut up about that damn speech somehow.’

Prompto’s face twisted into a cute little pout, but his eyes were still sparkling.

‘You should be nice to the guy taking all your official pictures, y’know? Wouldn’t want all the papers featuring the King of Lucis picking his nose on the front-page tomorrow’, he retorted.

Noct rested his chin in the palm of his hand and blinked at him lazily, a little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘Hmm, and here I thought I was nice to you right now. Well, maybe you don’t want me to go so soft on you… I mean, you _did_ enjoy yourself that one time I –‘

The sound of Ignis clearing his throat made them both jump and Prompto immediately flushed a dark red. For a moment, he seemed to fight for words. Then, he leaned over to Noct and whispered _Hold that thought_ before jumping up from his chair and asking Ignis if he needed any help with an exaggerated cheer in his voice.

Noct snickered quietly to himself. Oh yes, it was good to have the old Prompto back. Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

This day was _horrible._ It was hot like in Ifrit’s arsehole and Noct had sweat running down his face and pooling under the far too heavy fabric of his suit as soon as he stepped foot outside the building. It was one of those occasions when he loathed whoever of his ancestors had decided to make black the royal colour without any regard for practicality. Sure, it was far better than the pasty white the Empire had come up with, but he wouldn’t let that argument count when his clothes felt like a heat blanket clinging directly to his damp skin.

The speech would be held in one of the big squares close to the Citadel. Despite the early hour, Noct could see people filling the large space in front of the stage that had been put up there. Before long, the place would be packed. It made his stomach churn with the now familiar nervousness that came with public appearances like this. There hadn’t been many occasions for him to speak before a crowd yet, since security measures had been difficult to organize in this mess of a city the Long Night had left behind. But he had enough experience by now to know the stage-fright would disappear once he actually stood on the podium – or it would at least recede to a level where his ability to form coherent sentences was not in danger.

Ignis ushered him out of the car that had brought them and Prompto here and led him to the secluded area behind the stage. Thankfully, it was shadowed by a large tent that also hid them from curious eyes. There was a low table with several chairs around it and a small arrangement of snacks and refreshments. Noct ignored both and walked towards the wall of the tent instead, peering through a gap in the fabric at the growing crowd.

‘Everything in order, your Majesty?’, Ignis asked somewhere behind him.

‘Mhm.’

‘Do you need to go over the speech again?’

‘Nah, I’m good.’

The advisor left him to his own thoughts after that. Noct concentrated on taking deep breaths and tried to familiarize himself with the view he would have from the stage. He could already feel the weight of too many eyes on him, everyone holding their breaths and hanging at his lips as if he was to reveal the mysteries of the universe to them. It was frightening. The first few times he had been unable to concentrate on anything other than how tight the collar of his shirt had felt, how his nose had started to itch halfway through and how he should have taken a piss before starting. It had been an awkward mess. He hadn’t dared to believe Ignis when he had told him that things would get better with practice; but as always, his advisor had been right. It wasn’t pleasant by a long shot, but at least he didn’t feel like he would embarrass himself and every single ancestor in his line down to the Founder King anymore. Now, along with the nervousness and slight nausea squirming around in his gut, there was the strange feeling of elation when looking out over the crowd. These were _his_ people. The people that had survived ten years of darkness in wait for him. The people that had rebuilt half a city in not even two years’ time and never faltered in their efforts. He was proud of them. And he didn’t doubt whether he would be worthy of their reverence anymore – he would simply make sure that he was. He had to.

The sound of a shutter made him tear his gaze away from the square and turn around. Prompto slowly lowered the camera with a sheepish grin.

‘Sorry. It was just… a really good picture.’

‘Can I see?’

Prompto stepped to his side and pulled up the most recent photo on the digital display. He had caught Noct half from behind, the camera looking over his shoulder at the blurry crowd. There was just enough of his face visible to see his serious and thoughtful expression. It was strange to see himself like that, in the way people might see him in a newspaper – a man with an unreadable face watching over a faceless crowd. But there was a kind of fondness in his eyes, something that turned this picture into something more. A personal moment. He could see why Prompto had wanted to preserve it.

The blond peered at him with a frown when he didn’t comment on the picture.

‘…don’t like it? I don’t have to keep it.’

‘No, it’s good. It’s really good.’ Noct gave him a soft smile as reassurance. ‘I just thought… that’s what my dad used to look like. I always wondered what was going through his head in those moments.’

Prompto hummed and slowly nodded to himself as he inspected the picture.

‘And? What is going through your head?’

Noct raised his eyebrows. ‘Moogles’, he deadpanned.

‘Oh c’mon dude, that was a totally serious question!’

‘I _am_ serious. I just imagine all those people wearing moogle costumes. Helps me to not run away screaming.’

Prompto shot him a sceptical glance, not entirely sure if he should believe him. Noct just laughed it off and grabbed the blond’s waist, pulling him closer. The additional body heat was not exactly comfortable, but he didn’t mind. He could only think how grateful he was that the other man was with him right now, ever the counterbalance to the constant weight of responsibility pressing down on him. If it weren’t for Prompto, he probably _would_ have run away screaming at some point these last one and a half years.

Slim arms wrapped around him until their chests were pressed flush together, and Prompto planted a chaste kiss to his cheek.

‘You’ll kick ass out there, I know it’, he said with utter conviction. ‘And if you don’t… well, then I’ll just have to eat that extra-large double cheese pizza I smuggled into your freezer all by myself.’

Noct snorted. ‘That settles it then – I’ll totally kick ass out there.’

‘That’s my dude.’

Noct quickly glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was still just Ignis with them in the tent before pressing a decidedly less chaste kiss to Prompto’s mouth. The blond leaned into the touch eagerly, his lips parting for Noct’s tongue to slip past. They let themselves enjoy the moment for a while, deepening the kiss while their hands clawed at too much fabric. Prompto’s body all but melted into the embrace, his hips pushing ever so subtly against Noct’s. The latter finally had to pull back with a sheepish grin, his cheeks flushed. He really wanted this to continue, but he really, _really_ didn’t want to have to go out on stage with a boner.

Prompto grinned and released him from his grip, innocently crossing his arms behind his back. Before either of them could say anything, Ignis stepped up to them with a stern expression.

‘If you are quite done – Prompto, I believe you should get in position in front of the stage. The speech is to begin in thirty minutes.’

There was something flickering over the blond’s features – hesitation, uncertainty? – but he just nodded and gathered his camera equipment. When he was done, he punched Noct’s arm in an encouraging gesture and scurried out of the tent with a cheerful _See ya!_ On his way out, he passed Gladio who was just coming in, wearing the full Crownsguard uniform. The both of them shared a look – something unreadable that made Prompto continue on his way a bit more hesitant than before and Gladio looking after him with a frown.

‘Is blondie okay?’, the Shield asked as soon as he stepped up to Noct’s side.

‘Yeah, he seemed a lot better today. Finally acting like himself again. Why?’, Noct responded.

Gladio just kept looking at the tent’s entrance with a thoughtful expression, then he seemed to shake himself out of it.

‘Nothing, just wondering.’ He fixated Noct with his gaze and shot him a broad grin. ‘So, ready to face the music?’

***

The speech went as well as was to be expected – meaning that by the end of it, Noct was absolutely drenched in sweat and wishing he was literally anywhere else. Preferably on his couch with a cold beer and a fan. But that dream had to wait, since there were hands to shake and pictures to take and waves and smiles and everything else that belonged to a good public spectacle. Finally, even that part was over and Noct retreated towards the tent, Ignis and Gladio in tow. He was a bit surprised not to find Prompto there, but maybe the blond was still mingling with the crowd, capturing the atmosphere with his camera. Or he was stalling. He had sent a text only a few minutes after leaving the tent before the speech, one Noct had only noticed once the whole circus had already been over.

[Prom] Need to talk to you and the guys after the speech. Just letting you know, so you can chew me out if I get the jitters and try to avoid it

It was an ominous announcement, but it would explain why Prompto had seemed as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. If he had finally decided to talk about what had happened to him, it would definitely ease some of the strain he had put on himself. Noct was looking forward to the conversation and dreading it at the same time. What would Prompto have to tell? And would talking about it throw him back into the swirling spiral of bad memories he had been fighting with since returning to Insomnia? But mostly Noct was relieved that the blond was finally taking steps in the right direction. Everything else, they would be able to sort out. Together. Until then, he tried to not let his mind linger on all his questions for too long.

He let himself fall on one of the chairs and grabbed a bottle of water, thankful for the chill of the glass against his skin.

‘You did well’, Ignis said next to him. The advisor’s voice was low, for once lacking all formality.

‘Just doing my job, right?’, Noct muttered, but he couldn’t help but feel a spark of pride at his friend’s words.

‘Of course.’ There was a small smile on Ignis’ lips as he inclined his head. ‘Now then – let us wait for Prompto and then return to the New Palace. I prepared some refreshments for all of us.’

Noct lifted his arms over his head and stretched until he felt his joints pop. The heat made him sleepy, but for Ignis’ food he might just be able to stay awake a little while longer.

‘Yeah, sounds good.’

***

Half an hour later, Prompto still hadn’t showed up. Noct’s fingers were tapping a nervous rhythm on his knee, his other hand fidgeting with his phone. He had sent several texts, but none of them had been answered. He didn’t want to think that Prompto had changed his mind and tried to avoid the pending conversation, but it was still far better than the alternative that that little treacherous voice in the back of his mind kept whispering to him.

_Something happened to him. Again._

He shook his head, determinedly rejecting the idea. There was a whole number of things that could have captured Prompto’s attention or delayed him in any other way. Surely there was no need to worry.

‘What do you mean you don’t know?!’, Gladio’s voice suddenly boomed through the tent. Noct jumped and stared at his shield with big eyes. For some reason, Gladio had seemed even more worried about Prompto than him, constantly checking his watch as the blond refused to show up and muttering darkly under his breath. Now he was on the phone, and he looked as if he might as well crush the device in his fist.

‘I _told_ you to keep an eye on him!’ A short pause as he listened to the voice on the other end. ‘Yeah… yeah, okay. Take some men and search the place where you last saw him. – Yes, right now! – Yeah. We’ll talk about this, Crownsguard. Now get going!’

‘What was that about?’, Noct asked as Gladio ended the call. He didn’t want to know. He really didn’t want to know. The Shield stared at the ground for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he drew in a deep breath and turned to face Noct.

‘I screwed up’, he said, his voice thick.

‘How so?’, Ignis asked. The advisor had been the calm and reasonable one, as always. Reminding them that half an hour was not a significantly long time and that their worry was most likely unfounded. But now, even he was frowning.

Gladio ran a hand through his hair in a nervous motion. ‘Prompto… came to my house yesterday evening’, he started reluctantly. ‘He seemed pretty freaked out and asked if he could stay the night. He didn’t tell me anything, but as soon as I had him inside, two guys showed up in a car, lurking around on the street and watching the house. Pretty sure they followed him there.’

‘ _What?_ ’ Noct leaned forward in his chair, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles turned white. ‘There were people after him, here in Insomnia!? And you _knew_ about it, and still let him go off on his own?’ He had to restrain himself to not jump up, grab his Shield by the collar and shake him. Now Gladio’s words on the phone made much more sense – in a way Noct didn’t even want to think about and yet couldn’t take his mind of. _No. Nononono. He can’t be gone. Not again. Not right under our noses._ But if Prompto knew that someone was after him, he wouldn’t stroll through the city any longer than he had to. He wouldn’t disappear into the crowd. He wouldn’t be late. Not if he could help it.

Gladio flared up at the accusatory tone. ‘Weren’t you listening? I told him to stay in sight of the Crownsguard, and I ordered some of the men on guard duty to keep an eye on him. Besides, the fuckers from yesterday are sitting in a cell. I didn’t expect others to try something so soon…’

‘So you even had people with information about all of this sitting around in the Crownsguard HQ, but you did _nothing?_ What the _fuck_ , Gladio!’

‘In case you didn’t notice, I had a major event to take care of. And we barely had enough people for that, never mind some big investigation.’

‘The speech? That’s your excuse? I had the whole Crownsguard as protection, it would have taken just _one_ man to stay with him…’

‘I’m _your_ Shield, not his!’, Gladio snapped. ‘My job is to keep you safe, whether you like it or not, and I can’t divert manpower to anything else when we barely have enough people as it is! Not even for Prompto.’

Now Noct did jump up from his chair, breath heavy and hands balled to fists. ‘How dare you…’

‘He’s my friend, too!’, Gladio shouted, planting himself in front of Noct. ‘I fought with him through the fucking apocalypse for ten years, you think I don’t care about him? You think you’re the only one who’s worried for him?’

‘Enough!’

Both of them turned at the sound of Ignis’ voice cutting through the air like one of his daggers. Noct deflated visibly, his hands unclenching and dropping to his sides limply.

‘This bickering is getting us nowhere’, the advisor continued coolly. ‘We need to stay calm. Prompto hasn’t been gone for long – we have no evidence that anything ill has befallen him yet. But even if that is the case, assigning blame can wait until we resolved this.’

Gladio took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. His voice was a lot quieter when he spoke again. ‘Prompto agreed to talk about it to you two after the speech. I didn’t tell you sooner because – well, you know how he’s been lately. I really thought he was safe.’

Noct just nodded. Of course Gladio wouldn’t have knowingly put their friend in danger. He _knew_. But days after days of constant worry really got to him. The happy breakfast this morning suddenly seemed very far away, the hope that maybe soon everything would be alright dissolved in a matter of minutes.

‘Now, what do we know?’, Ignis asked no one in particular. Noct was grateful to him for taking the reins and keeping them on a steady track when his own thoughts were already spiralling ever deeper. He dropped back into the chair and clasped his trembling hands in his lap.

‘Not much’, Gladio answered. ‘The Crownsguard watching him just lost sight of him in the crowd. I have some men searching the place right now.’

‘Then we can’t do much else here. Let us return to the New Palace and wait for their report. As soon as His Majesty is away from the public, there will also be no need for the entirety of the Crownsguard to be on the watch anymore, and Gladio can dispatch some of his men to question the prisoners.’

Noct opened his mouth to protest, but Ignis cut him off as if sensing his disapproval. ‘Your Majesty, I do believe it is better to leave others to do the work, especially in your current emotional state. I understand your wish to help, but you won’t do Prompto any favours by rushing into things.’

Noct slumped back into his chair in defeat. He wanted nothing more than to storm out of the tent and hunt down the people that had invaded the safety of their lives. But he didn’t even know where to start, and his mind was one frantic mess of fear and worry. He hated it when Ignis was right.

***

Almost two hours later, he was sitting in his apartment, staring out of the window. Ignis was talking on the phone quietly, and Gladio was off somewhere, probably yelling at someone. The Crownsguard had found Prompto’s phone in an alleyway, the screen cracked. There were no tracks and no witnesses as of yet. The two men – hunters – in the holding cells still refused to talk. Noct rose from the couch and walked over to the next wall. He slammed his fist against it, once, twice. Ignis lifted his head at the noise, but he didn’t comment on it. There was nothing to say. They had failed. Noct leaned his forehead against the cool wall and fought the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. They had failed. And Prompto was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ME: So how miserable do we want Prompto to be in this chapter?  
> MY BRAIN: Yes.
> 
> ...This won't be pretty

Prompto’s first thought upon waking up was that Noct had – again – kicked him out of bed while asleep and that was the reason he was lying on the floor. His second thought – after he had cracked his eyes open just a bit to peer around, head still cloudy from sleep – was that he had passed out from the perpetual heat and ended up in a hospital. Because why else would there be so much white?

He had to blink a few times to chase away the dry feeling in his eyes. Whether he had fallen asleep or fainted, he hadn’t removed his contacts beforehand and now they felt like they had been superglued to his eyeballs. It took a while for his surroundings to come into focus, and when they did, he realized that he was indeed lying on a floor. It was cool to the touch and covered in white tile. The only other thing in his view was a nondescript white expanse; after squinting and pondering for a few more moments, he came to the conclusion that it had to be a wall. It was flat and empty and didn’t tell him much about where he was and why he was here. Therefore, he forced his body to move in order to see what else this mystery room had to offer. His limbs refused to cooperate at first, his movements as sluggish and uncoordinated as his thoughts, but eventually he managed to roll over on his other side. He lifted his head just enough to look around – it was a tremendous effort and the stiff muscles in his neck coiled into tight knots in protest. He didn’t pay them any mind. Because taking in what was in front of him, even the foggy parts of his brain caught up to the fact that he was neither on the floor of a bedroom nor in a hospital.

He was in his own personal nightmare.

The space he was in was just big enough for him to stretch out on the floor and completely empty except for a bucket in the corner he tried not to think about too hard. It was bathed in a harsh, clinical white light, bright enough to highlight the little cracks in the walls and the patches of mould in the corners. The empty white walls were surrounding him on three sides. On the fourth, there were bars. Ugly metal bars from the floor to the ceiling, with a door set in the middle. The whole setup looked raw and unfinished, as if some handyman had decided to turn his garage into a makeshift prison and put in just enough effort to make it work. Through the bars, he could see the rest of the room.

Oh Gods, the rest of the room.

There was a table at its centre. The sight of it alone was enough to make him feel queasy – it was a heavy thing made from blank steel, its spotless surface gleaming under the cold light. There were leather cuffs fastened to its sides, sturdy and worn and looking impossible to break. And the walls around it… The walls were covered with MTs.

At least parts of them – ripped off limbs, wires and tubes protruding from under the metal armour like veins or severed nerves; heads, the eyeholes in the expressionless masks dark and empty; whole torsos in various states of disassembly. They were hanging from the wall or stuffed in storage racks, some smaller parts littered the floor. The small portions of wall that weren’t occupied by the gruesome collection were covered in large sheets of paper filled with haphazard notes, diagrams and sketches. There was a desk in the corner, covered with documents and monitors and contraptions Prompto couldn’t make sense of. It looked like the workspace of a mad scientist, one who took a particular interest in the Empire’s favourite cannon fodder.

And Prompto was right in the middle of it. Sitting in a cage like some lab animal.

His eyes wandered down to his right wrist. The leather strap that had covered the barcode was gone; the inked lines laid bare for the world to see. They seemed to burn on his skin, searing through his arm and right into his bone. He felt his breath quicken as all the puzzle pieces fell into place, everything that had gone wrong these last days fitting together in one big messy picture. He didn’t know why he was even surprised. It should have been clear from the beginning, ever since Wolf had told him with that ugly sneer that someone had paid some hunters to catch a runaway MT. But he had been so preoccupied with running away in order to keep his sanity that he hadn’t fully realized the implications.

The room he was in spelled it out clearly enough. There was a Niff out there with a keen interest in the late Empire’s weapon technology; and now he had his hands on the one test subject from Besithia’s labs that hadn’t shut down after the Dawn. Only that Prompto had nothing to offer on that front. There was nothing tying him to that lab besides his genes and the ink under his skin, nothing that could prove valuable to some MT-obsessed madman. He had to swallow hard. What would his captor do once that became obvious? Would he quietly dispose of him, or would he dig through his body in an attempt to gain even the smallest scrap of information, taking him apart until nothing was left? Bile rose in his throat and he had to clasp his hands in his laps in order to stop them from shaking. But then there was another thought popping up in his mind, one that dragged him further along an even darker path. What if his capture hadn’t been a bet, a random attempt to _maybe_ find something of value? What if the Niff knew something he didn’t? Maybe the people who had declared him human after coming to Lucis had missed something. Maybe the secret how to build an army of mass destruction was written somewhere in his DNA. Maybe there was still a bloodthirsty monster somewhere inside of him, only waiting for its wake-up call. Maybe maybe maybe. Whatever it was, he had no doubt that this Niff would do what the Empire always did with things that caught its interest – taking it, and ripping it apart, and twisting it into something that would do its bidding so it could take even more.

He had to get out. He had to tell Noct.

But first he had to calm down because after this thought, his mind blanked out, unable to think of a course of action, or anything besides the impossibility of this endeavour. All he could concentrate on were the walls surrounding him, the bright searing white that hurt his eyes and seemed to press down on him until he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe and there wasn’t enough _space_ …

He scooted back until he felt the cool surface of the wall against his shoulder blades. While he hated how close it was, how sturdy and unbudging, it was something to ground him. He pressed his head against his knees and started to count, four beats breathing in, two beats holding his breath, six beats breathing out. He repeated this fifteen times until he felt calm enough to take another look at his surroundings. This time, he managed to get to his feet, even if his legs felt unsteady and wobbly. He walked up to the metal bars, carefully inspecting them for any weaknesses. Even before his hands touched the rough metal, he knew he wouldn’t find any. But focussing on the task at hand helped him to keep his thoughts occupied. To think of anything besides the leather restraints on the table or the mangled remains of what could have been his brothers hanging from the wall like trophies.

He checked every inch of his cell. Then he had to sit down because his legs started to shake and give out under him. He curled up into a ball and tried to focus on his breathing, then he got up and checked again. He didn’t know how often he repeated that cycle. The passing of time was only marked by the way his throat became drier and drier and his empty stomach started to clench uncomfortably. His initial panic gave way to a growing frustration, until he threw himself against the ungiving bars and screamed his throat hoarse in an attempt to at least provoke a reaction from his captors, anything to prove to him that they hadn’t left him to rot in his cell. His voice gave out eventually and his shoulder ached from colliding with the metal over and over again and he collapsed in a heap of shuddering breaths and barely suppressed sobs.

He was lying on the floor in the same position he had woken up in – curled in on himself and facing the blank wall with an empty stare – as he heard someone entering the room. His senses snapped to attention at once at the sounds of a door somewhere behind the bars; then steps, the rustle of clothes, raspy breaths. He turned around warily. The man on the other side of the bars wasn’t even paying attention to him. He was sifting through the documents on the desk instead, turning Prompto his back. He was wearing a lab coat. His hair might have been a pale blond at some point but was now a dirty grey. There wasn’t much else Prompto could make out, except that there was a stiffness to his motions that usually came with age. 

‘Hey’, he said, attempting to catch the man’s attention. His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

‘Hey!’, he tried again, louder this time. He banged against the bars with a fist, causing the cell door to rattle in its hinges. The man in the corner looked up, his pale blue eyes grazing Prompto with an indifferent expression. The blond could just make out sharp features covered with crinkled, sagging skin before the stranger turned back to his work without uttering a sound. He tried to get another reaction out of him, but his attempts were ignored.

Prompto let himself fall back against the wall and slumped down until he was sitting on the floor again. This wasn’t fair. Villains always had to reveal their plans, either out of stupidity or carelessness or hubris – that was the universal plot rule. Every movie, game or comic book said as much. The villain wasn’t supposed to just… plain out ignore him. As if he wasn’t even there.

As if he was just another one of those empty metal shells hanging from the wall.

A thing.

A lifeless, empty thing.

He only realized he was digging his fingers into his wrist as his nails caught on the skin and he felt the sharp pain of them carving angry red lines across the code print there. He pulled back his hand and curled it into a fist.

An eternity of blatant disregard later, the man in the lab coat finally moved away from his desk. Prompto perked up at the change, and immediately wished he hadn’t looked. Because his captor started to lay out what appeared to be medical equipment next to the steel table at the centre of the room, obviously preparing for _something_. Somehow Prompto doubted that he wanted to find out what. But it seemed that he wouldn’t get a choice in the matter, since the man finished what he was doing and approached the bars of his cell, fixating him with a blank stare. The blond scrambled backwards, pressing himself in the corner without thinking. This was too much like the nightmares that had haunted him for years and years after discovering his own dark secret; nightmares of cold labs and rows upon rows of storage pods, of faceless scientists in white coats and hands holding him down to tear him apart and put him back together again and again and again until he couldn’t recognize himself anymore. A key was shoved into the door’s lock and he knew he should memorize its shape and location, he should think of ways to take down his captor, he was just an old man, he could do it, but his brain just screamed _get away, away, away!_

Somehow he managed to not wail in horror as the man stepped through the cell door. Instead he scraped together everything that was left of reasonable thought in his head.

_The door is open. He’s gonna take me out of here. It’s my chance._

He repeated these thoughts to himself like a mantra, but it took everything he got not to flinch away as the man grabbed his arm and started dragging him towards the table.

The table.

_No. Nonononono. Don’t you dare. Don’t even think about putting me on that thing. Don’t_

He endured the grip of bony fingers on his wrist until they had almost reached the centre of the room. The he couldn’t stand it anymore, to hell with waiting for a good opportunity. He twisted his arm out of the other man’s grip and elbowed him in the stomach with all the strength he could muster. He didn’t pause to see whether his captor went to his knees or not – he bolted. Just a few steps around the table, a few more towards the door. He threw it open and stood in an empty corridor, walls of blank concrete and naked light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. And he ran. The air was burning in his lungs and his legs still felt numb and unsteady. He stumbled several times but always paused just long enough to get back on his feet before he kept running. He almost thought that maybe he would make it, maybe he would reach some kind of exit – as something slammed against his back and brought him to fall. His head collided with the floor and the impact robbed him of his breath. Stars danced in front of his eyes, but he was painfully aware of a knee pressing down on his spine uncomfortably and hands grabbing his wrists, twisting his arms on his back. Then he was lifted to his feet, his shoulders protesting against the strain.

He craned his neck as far as he could in order to catch a glimpse of the man behind him – and he froze as he saw dirty blond hair and a small crescent shaped scar that crinkled as its owner twisted his face into a lopsided grin.

‘Hey there again’, Scar said. Then Prompto felt something hard colliding with the base of his skull and the world went black.

***

The town square in front of the stage was packed. The crowd was so thick that it was hard to breath between all those people. The heat as well as the fear for his camera equipment had finally driven Prompto towards the edge of the square, in the shadow of the buildings. He had taken a lot of good shots already and allowed himself to just listen to the speech for a bit. It was captivating and inspiring, but he had expected as much – Noct and Ignis had worked on it for days. Mostly Ignis. But he was far more interested in watching Noct, the way he stood on the podium with his head held high and his voice steady, his presence filling the whole square and capturing the crowd with ease. Prompto felt his chest swelling with pride – pride for Noct who had come such a long way and pride for himself for being one of the handful of people who knew sides of the king the crowd in front of him would never be aware of. The vegetable-hating, lazy and awkward sides. Somehow, he had grown to love those even more now that they were something special and private, something that was more and more often hidden behind royal raiment and cultivated speech. Something precious that not everyone got to see, and he cherished every moment of it.

Prompto felt a warm smile creep across his face as he watched the king. This was a good day, he told himself. He hadn’t felt so light and warm since before Galdin; and seeing Noct’s steadfast figure and listening to his calm, certain words was only part of the cause. The other part was what had happened the night before. He would have thought that hours of fear and paranoia culminating in getting a dressing-down from Gladio wouldn’t have a positive effect on his emotional state. But in retrospective, he felt as if that stressful night had been almost cathartic. It had forced him to come to a decision, and even though he was still nervous as hell, he finally felt as if he would be able to overcome all this crap. He had the best friends a guy could have at his side after all – he could do it.

He was basking in these thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to whirl around. In front of him, almost hidden in the shadows of a side alley, stood the young hunter from a week ago. The hunter that had let him go. Prompto tensed and took a step back, his eyes searching out the next Crownsguard he could find in the crowd. His fingers twitched towards the gun that was carefully hidden in the pocket of his cargo pants.

‘Easy there.’ Scar raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. ‘I’m not here to hurt you.’

‘Oh yeah? Then what _are_ you doing here?’, Prompto hissed back.

The hunter grinned and cocked his head, his eyes trailing over Prompto’s figure in an unnervingly deliberate stare.

‘Nothing, really. Just seeing the sights. Meeting old acquaintances. Giving out friendly advice.’

‘Get to the point’, the blond snapped.

Scar’s grin faded, and he stepped closer. Prompto had to suppress a flinch at the sudden proximity. The hunter’s voice dropped to a low whisper right next to his ear.

‘Listen. I like you, and that’s why I’m giving you a little piece of information, fresh from the enemy’s lair. The two guys the Crownsguard took into custody last night? There’s more where they came from. They’re at this square right now. They’ll strike once the speech is over and the public handshaking and all that bullshit starts. The guards will be occupied with watching the king, no one will pay you any mind. If you want to get out, you have to do it now.’

Prompto wasted a few seconds just staring at him dumbfounded. He swore he could hear the _pop_ in his head as his little fragile bubble of happiness burst while his heart leapt to his throat. He had to fight hard to keep his composure.

‘Why are you telling me this? Why are you even here?’, he croaked, speaking quickly in an attempt to make sense of the situation.

‘I was paid to be here, what else?’, Scar answered in an almost bored tone. ‘That Niff that’s after you isn’t stingy. But I’ve got a conscience, if you believe it or not.’

He looked around suspiciously, scanning the crowd for an invisible threat. Then he retreated farther into the alleyway, motioning for Prompto to follow him. The blond hesitated.

‘C’mon, I won’t bite’, Scar said impatiently. ‘But I’d rather not be seen chatting up my target, y’know?’

Prompto gingerly took a few steps into the shadows. Not too far. Maybe twenty feet, and he would be back in view of the Crownsguard that was stationed at the edge of the square. His hand dipped into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Gladio had said to call him if anything came up. He didn’t want to bother the Shield when he knew there was a whole bunch of more important things he had to keep his eyes on right now, but his friend would never let him hear the end of it if something went wrong and he didn’t tell him. Again.

He had to fight with the touchscreen for longer than normal because he tried not to let Scar out of his sight while fidgeting with the phone. The hunter observed him with a thoughtful expression.

‘So, you tell anyone about our little encounter in Galdin?’, he suddenly asked, voice deliberately casual.

‘No…’, Prompto answered cautiously. Almost there. Just a few buttons and Gladio would be on the other end of the line. It would be alright.

‘Because of my little story about the Niff refugees?’ Scar snorted. ‘Really… I _thought_ you were naïve. But so naïve that you’d swallow that lame excuse I pulled out of my ass – not just hook, line and sinker but the whole damn fishing rod? You gotta work on that, pal.’

Prompto’s fingers stilled. ‘ _What_?’, he pressed out between his clenched teeth. Then it caught up to him and he knew something was so very, very wrong about all of this… His fingers flew into action faster than his brain could catch up. But before he could press the call button on his phone, the device was knocked out of his hands. The impact left his fingers numb, but he didn’t even hesitate before reaching for the gun in his pocket.

An arm sneaked around his neck and _squeezed._ At the same time, a calloused hand was pressed over his mouth and nose, cutting off his breath and muffling every sound. His hand scrambled for his weapon, but his head was already starting to feel fuzzy and the limbs around him wouldn’t give an inch. The alleyway blurred and swam before his eyes, and then his consciousness slipped away.

***

Prompto woke up with a headache that rivalled that one time he had tried to prove that he could match Gladio’s alcohol intake for a whole evening. This time though, he wasn’t lying in a soft bed with the best hang-over breakfast ever already waiting for him in the kitchen. This time, there was cold metal at his back and cold air moving over his skin and a glaring light shining down on him. With a groan, he moved to shade his eyes with a hand, but found that he couldn’t raise his arms. He jolted and craned his neck as far as he could, peering down at his body.

They had put him on the fucking table.

His wrists and legs were strapped down with the sturdy leather restraints that wouldn’t give an inch even when he tore at them with all his strength. With both embarrassment and rage he noticed that they had stripped him down to his boxers. Helpless and exposed, he twisted in his restraints in an attempt to see what was going on in the rest of the room.

He didn’t have to exert himself because the man in the lab coat stepped into his field of vision soon after he had started squirming on the table. His expression was no longer uninvolved – instead, he eyed Prompto like a slab of meat at a farmer’s market. The blond shivered under the gaze of those pale blue eyes.

_No, don’t… don’t touch me just stay away take me off this fucking table just let me…_

In the end, the man didn’t do much. He scrutinized every inch of his body, poked at his scars and pried open his eyes and mouth to look at them. Then he took samples of his hair and his blood and, apparently satisfied, retreated to the desk in the corner. The whole time, he hadn’t said a single word, hadn’t acknowledged at all that he was dealing with a sentient being. After the man had finally left him alone, Prompto was afraid for a moment that he would just leave him strapped to the table. But then his captor yelled ‘Varius!’ with a throaty voice, not even raising his head. Shortly after, the door to the corridor was opened and the hunter stepped through, shooting a wry grin in Prompto’s direction.

‘Put it back in it’s cell’, the man in the labcoat ordered with a jerk of his head.

‘You got it, doc’, Scar – Varius – answered and stepped closer to the table, starting to work on the restraints.

‘You better not make this hard for me’, he hissed at Prompto as he opened the straps around his wrists, then the ones around his ankles. An iron grip clamped down on the blond’s arm and yanked him off the table.

Prompto didn’t make it hard for him. He let himself be shoved back into the cell and sank down on the floor as the key clicked in the lock behind him. He couldn’t have escaped, not right now. He needed more information, first. He needed a plan.

He turned to the hunter who was still lingering around on the other side of the bars.

‘Hey, Varius.’

The other man perked up, raising his eyebrows in a mocking question.

‘Why do you help him?’, Prompto asked. His voice was raspy and low. He was so tired.

Varius shrugged. ‘Because he pays me, obviously. Told ya he isn’t stingy.’

‘And I thought you said you had a conscience.’

A snicker. ‘Sure I do. But if it’s between putting some Niff lab experiment back where it belongs or putting my ass on the line hunting coerls for cash – it’s not really a contest, y’know?’

‘Yeah’, Prompto said quietly, hugging his knees and staring at the wall. ‘I guess I do.’

Then he curled together on the floor, his back to the bars. He hadn’t gotten back his clothes, and the tiles were cold. His stomach was clenching uncomfortably, but it wasn’t only from hunger. He could still feel the fingers prodding at his skin, those indifferent eyes staring at him. Seeing nothing human, just a _thing_ to be toyed with.

He closed his eyes and tried to drift away into sleep. He would have to be well rested and focussed in order to come up with an escape plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry, I swear things will get better eventually!
> 
> Also thanks for reading and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts!


	9. Chapter 9

‘You sure this is a good idea?’

Noct let out an angry breath as he hastened down the corridor, Gladio at his heels. ‘It’s been two days already. I’m kinda running out of options here’, he snapped at his Shield.

The other man frowned. ‘Hey, I’m all for trying everything we can. Just… don’t expect too much, okay? We didn’t get so much as a peep out of them yet.’

Noct didn’t feel it necessary to answer. Gladio knew very well that none of that mattered to him. It wasn’t like they could get any _less_ information then they had right now.

He had no idea himself whether he would be able to gain anything from the two hunters they still had in custody. He didn’t have any practice with interrogations and with every passing hour, he found it more difficult to retain his composure. Which wasn’t a great starting point. But sitting around and waiting for others to feed him what pathetic little scraps of information they had managed to uncover was more than he could suffer anymore.

He had caught himself thinking of his father quite a lot these last two days. What _he_ would have done, if _he_ could have handled things better. But also what emotions might have been brewing under the ever regal and composed surface in all those years he had known him. Noct now knew first-hand that with enough practice, the mask of the king slipped into place with less and less effort. Sometimes, he didn’t even have to think about maintaining it anymore, and he still had just a fraction of his father’s experience. He knew how much could be hidden underneath, and the toll it took to never let any of it show. Which left him pondering how the man behind the king must have felt all these times the people around him had seen nothing but a determined and steadfast leader. How had he been able to shoulder the constant pressure? How had he maintained his façade even when loosing people he loved, loosing his wife, nearly loosing his son?

Noct shoved the thought away. He hadn’t lost Prompto yet, and he would make damn sure that he wouldn’t loose him in the future either. He would just have to keep up appearances until he held him in his arms again, shutting away his emotions not only from the outside world, but from himself as well. He could break down and wallow in misery some other time. Right now, Prompto needed him to be the calm and levelheaded king rather than the mess of badly managed fear and rage he still was inside. Someone who would actually get shit done.

Ignis’s contact from Meldacio HQ had called back – they now knew the identity of the hunters that had attacked Prompto in Galdin Quay. Which was of little value, considering that another hunter had found their corpses near a side road, each of them killed with a single bullet. Noct couldn’t help himself but feel both pride and grim satisfaction when thinking of this, but it also meant that this lead was a dead end. No one seemed to know why the hunters had targeted Prompto, if they had acted on their own accord or on behalf of another. Gladio had called Iris a day after the blond’s disappearance, in hopes that she might have more insight considering her tight bonds to the hunters’ peculiar society. She hadn’t been able to provide them with answers, but she had promised to investigate on her own.

That left the two men in the Crownsguard holding cells.

Gladio sighed as Noct wordlessly continued to rush down the hall. ‘Just make sure they stay alive and able to talk, would you?’, he muttered.

Noct paused in front of the door to the holding area, straightening and taking a deep breath to compose himself. He gave Gladio a nod before entering, his face carefully cleared of all traces of stress and anger. The Shield followed him and then pointed him in the direction of the interrogation room.

‘I thought you might wanna start with the younger one of the two. Jake Ferrum. He didn’t tell us anything so far, but he seems less stubborn about it than his buddy. If I had to guess, I’d say he might even feel guilty. If one of them will talk, it’s him.’

Noct took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. ‘Alright, let’s see what he has to say.’

He pushed open the door and strode into the room confidently, his head held high and his face blank. The room was empty except for a table with two chairs on their side and one on the other. The single chair was occupied by a man who had his hands shackled to the table and looked, for lack of any better word, utterly crestfallen. He was tall but wiry rather than bulky, his form slouching in the manner of a person uncomfortable with their own hight. His cheeks were pockmarked and covered with sporadic stubble. Dark strands of unevenly cut hair fell into his eyes as he looked up. For a moment there was just resignation spreading on his face as he saw the two men entering, but then he got another look at Noct and his eyes widened in recognition.

Noct met his gaze with an icy stare, prepared for a sneer or some insults thrown his way. But the man just seemed to fold in on himself even more, like he was trying hard to fuse with his chair. His eyes darted away and continued to avoid Noct’s at all cost.

Gladio stepped up to the king, hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid and formal. Noct wasn’t the only one with a role to play after all.

‘Jake Ferrum – may I introduce His Royal Majesty, King Noctis Lucis Caelum’, the Shield announced. The hunter let his head hang lower, an attempt at a bow or an effort to escape the weight of their gazes – Noct couldn’t guess. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down in front of the prisoner, Gladio looming over his shoulder like an oversized guard dog. He thought that maybe, he would have a better shot at this than the Crownsguard after all. The prisoner seemed intimidated enough by his mere presence to have his resolve crumble eventually.

He crossed his legs, leaning back in the chair and let his fingers tap a slow rhythm on the tabletop. The silence stretched out, the man on the other side of the table squirming uncomfortably.

‘Jake, was it?’, Noct finally spoke up.

‘Yes, your Majesty’, the hunter mumbled, risking a glance at the blue eyes scrutinizing him. He flinched visibly under the gaze.

Noct watched him thoughtfully. _Jake_ didn’t just seem uncomfortable, but downright miserable in his position. Sure, there were better places to be than an interrogation room in the Crownsguard headquarters. But the guy looked awfully close to bursting into tears. On one hand, Noct thought that there was some divine justice in that – considering Prompto’s desperate and terrified face in the days after Galdin. On the other hand, this was a really strange reaction for a hardened hunter facing the man whose lover he’d been out to kidnap. Maybe he was just terrified by the thought of being stuck in a cell for the rest of his life – or maybe he hadn’t been all that comfortable with the deed all along.

Noct went with the latter and prayed to the Astrals that he was right. They were running out of time.

He pulled out his phone and, with a few swipes and taps, opened a picture. Then he placed the device on the table and turned it around so the hunter could get a look.

‘Recognize him?’, he asked, his voice as cold as his eyes.

Jake swallowed and stared down at the photo. It was Prompto, blue eyes wide with joy and childish delight, a big grin nearly splitting his face in two as he held a fluffy little ball of yellow feathers close to his chest.

‘He loves Chocobos, you know?’, Noct continued, his tone dropping to something softer as he looked at the picture. ‘He would bounce around like a puppy the first time we went to the post. Never got tired of watching the birds. Even tried to sneak one of the chicks into the car when we left.’

Jake’s face shifted ever so slightly as he turned away from the phone. He looked almost pained now and Noct thought that he had to be on the right track. It was one thing to follow orders, to hunt down a man knowing only his name and his face. It was something else to realize that there was a person in there, too.

‘When he was a kid, he had barely enough money to buy food for himself; but he kept picking up strays and feeding them. Broke his ankle once because he climbed a tree to rescue a kitten, even though hights scare him to death. He’s always smiling and telling jokes to brighten everyone’s day, because he knows what it’s like to feel miserable and lonely. It made him think that he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t worthy of attention. But he fought through that and now, I know no one who can make people laugh as easily as he does. I know men who went through not even half as much as he did and had their spirit broken. But despite all of that, he’s still just a dork with a camera and a helper complex who can get excited over a sunset.’

Noct sat back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘So I’ve been wondering – what kind of a scumbag would go after a person like him?’

Jake was fidgeting on his chair. They let him shift and squirm, the silence stretching between them. He seemed torn, his eyes flickering down to Prompto’s face still grinning at him from the phone’s screen, then back to Noct.

‘He’s not what you think he is’, he blurted out.

Noct stilled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. ‘Is that so?’, he asked slowly.

‘He’s an MT’, the hunter whispered.

There was a cold weight settling in Noct’s stomach. After seeing Prompto’s reappearing obsession with his wristband and hearing what Gladio had told them about his conversation with the blond, they had already guessed that the attack on him was somehow linked to his origins. Having it confirmed, though… It wasn’t _fair_. Prompto had spent too much time already being haunted by his past; he deserved to be free of it. Hearing the hunter say those cursed words, as if they were explanation enough, as if they justified all the horrible things Prompto had gone through – Noct clenched his teeth and fought against the urge to slam the man’s face into the table. Instead, he looked at him with a deliberately unimpressed gaze.

‘So?’, he asked.

Jake blinked, taken aback. ‘I-I… He’s…’, he stammered.

‘I’m well aware of where he came from and what purpose he was intended to fulfil. What is your point?’

The hunter seemed to have trouble collecting himself. ‘You… you knew?’, he asked with a raspy voice.

‘Yes. But the fact of how he came to be is irrelevant. He left Niflheim when he was just a baby – a normal, human baby, no matter what he was intended to be - and lived his whole life as a Crown Citizen of Lucis. He’s just as human as you and I, maybe even more so.’

There was a distinct look of horror on the other man’s face, growing with each of Noct’s words. His fingers had started shaking and he wrung his hands nervously.

‘Is that not what you expected?’, Noct asked coolly.

Jake shook his head weakly. ‘I-I didn’t… I didn’t know…’

Noct leaned forward and tapped on the table with a fingernail to catch the other’s attention.

‘Well you better start talking, then. And don’t leave anything out.’

***

One day, a Niff had showed up at one of the hunter outposts. Nobody had known who he was, and he had been careful to keep it that way. He had felt out the atmosphere, only talking to people once he had gotten a read on them. Then he had started to recruit. A failed military experiment, he had said, an MT gone haywire. Lodged deeply into the heart of Lucis, at the side of the King himself. What would the people think if they learned that a Niflheim weapon had lived amongst them undetected for years? He had to be taken out discreetly, lest they provoke a diplomatic incident between the remains of the two nations. The Niff pointed the hunters in the right direction and fed them the information necessary; and he demanded only that the rogue MT would be handed over to him once captured. To study him, he said. To learn if there could be others like him, sneaking their way into human society. And after all, he was only taking back what was the Empire’s by right.

He paid well and the hunters needed the money. Not many people around to place bounties on prowling beasts these days. Some were excited by the prospect of hunting a different kind of game, something new, something challenging. The first group of hunters was quickly found, and left just as quickly to sniff out their prey. When just one of them reported back, a second group was sent to Insomnia, to finish the job.

Noct was fuming as he was sitting in one of the meeting rooms with Ignis and Gladio. The hunter was back in his cell; they would have to decide what to do with him at a later date. Right now, they had other things to worry about.

‘So they thought they were doing the right thing’, Ignis said contemplatively.

Gladio snorted. ‘I think most of them just got a kick out of it. As for that Jake guy… yeah, I guess he really thought that. Probably the only reason he managed to keep quiet for so long – he thought it was for a good cause.’

‘Don’t defend him!’, Noct huffed, his hands grabbing the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. ‘If the Niffs start to turn my own people against me, what’s next? What the hell am I supposed to do against that?’

‘First, you could start thinking straight’, his Shield snapped at him. ‘You know one reason why Prompto wouldn’t talk to you about the attack? Because he was afraid you would start to see enemies where there aren’t any. The refugees ain’t the problem, and neither are the hunters.’

‘Gladio is quite right’, Ignis chimed in. ‘We should concentrate on the source. The man the hunter described – I doubt his intentions are as pure as he let on. Regarding his interest in Prompto and his origins, I would guess that he might have been a scientist in the MT production facility. Someone who would either want to quell his personal curiosity, or regard it as his mission to carry on Besithia’s work.’

Noct let out a shaky breath. So Prompto was in the hands of a madman who wanted to use him in some twisted magitek experiments. The thought made him sick. It also meant that this had evolved into a matter of national security. If this scientist found a way to get MTs to work without the help of daemons, there _would_ be people willing to use that power. He couldn’t let that happen. But every time Noct tried to think about it logically, tried to map out the best course of action, there was the picture of Prompto hanging from that contraption in Zegnautus keep surfacing in his mind, a faceless man in a white coat poking and prodding at his motionless form. He had to save him. Two days were far too long already, they had to act _now._ If only he could get his useless brain to work…

‘Noct.’ Ignis’s calm voice cut through his swirling thoughts. Bless that man and his almost inhuman ability to sense his inner turmoil.

‘Breathe’, his advisor ordered. ‘We need to have faith in Prompto. He is strong, so give him some credit. We’ll just have to focus on what we can do at the moment.’

‘Yeah.’ Noct closed his eyes and concentrated on pushing his emotions away once more. It was difficult, but he had to try.

‘We made progress already, right?’, Gladio said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘You did a good job with that hunter. At least now, we know what we’re dealing with. And we’ve got a name.’

‘Varius Rideo.’ The third hunter who had come to Insomnia, the one who had survived the first attempt to capture Prompto. According to Jake, _he_ had been the one dealing with their employer, even though he had preferred to remain in the shadows during their actual job. He had also been the only one to know where to meet up with the Niff in order to hand over the prisoner. If they found him, they would find Prompto.

‘I already set Iris on his trail’, Gladio said. ‘Someone must have heard what he’s up to, or where he’s gone. He can’t hide forever.’

‘And when he comes out of his hole, we’ll pay him a little visit‘, Noct added darkly.

‘Yeah, about that…’ Noct looked up to see his Shield loom over him with a frown, arms crossed in front of his broad chest. ‘When we do find him, you’ll stay here.’

‘What?’ Noct jumped up from his chair, planting himself in front of Gladio. ‘Like hell I will!’

The other man just looked down on him, amber eyes hard and glinting with determination. ‘I won’t let you put yourself in danger. You’re not going, end of discussion. I’ll send my best men out to find Prompto, and that’s that.’

‘He is right, Noct’, Ignis said softly. ‘Your place is not in the field, you know that.’

Noct clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, fighting down the urge to take a swing at his Shield. _Of course_ he knew. He had always known. Being the king meant sitting in a gilded cage, his life no longer his own – not even his own to throw away. It was the sacrifice he had to make for power, the power to change the world, make it better. He should be thankful for it. That didn’t mean he had to like it. And right now, it was hard, so hard. The knowledge that people would fight and die for him, and he couldn’t do the same in return. He couldn’t even go out to save the one he loved, but had to rely on others to do it for him, while he sat behind his safe walls. He knew this was an unavoidable part of the life that had been granted to him back in the Citadel’s throne room; he knew things could have been so, so much worse. He still hated it.

He sighed, his body visibly deflating.

‘Alright’, he said, quietly. ‘I’ll stay. On one condition.’

Gladio looked at him with narrow eyes, suspicious. ‘And that is…?’

‘You and Iggy are the ones to go after Prom.’

The Shield’s frown deepened, and he shook his head. ‘Not happening. The Crownsguard can handle it. I’m not leaving you alone when we just uncovered a plot that could threaten the security of the whole kingdom.’

Noct’s eyes flared up and he drew himself up to his full height – which wasn’t much compared to Gladio, but the gesture was enough to have the Shield retreat half a step.

‘I won’t have you tell me to act like a king and yet question me at every turn!’, he snapped, a steel edge to his voice. It was what Prompto liked to call his ‘Royal Voice’, something he caught himself using more and more, something that commanded respect. While it was useful in his day to day dealings with the Council members and other dignitaries, he had always avoided to pull rank on his friends like that. He hated to remind them that they were king and subject, too – but Gladio was testing his patience. They didn’t have time for squabbles. Prompto didn’t have time.

‘Do you have so little faith in my decisions, or the abilities _you_ taught me? If that’s the case, maybe you should reconsider your position. Is that what I’m to understand, _Crownsguard_?’ The words burned in his mouth like acid as he spit them out and he knew he would loathe himself for every single one of them for days, maybe weeks to come.

The way Gladio’s eyes went wide and his spine snapped straight, lifelong training urging him to stand at attention – it would have been comical if Noct wouldn’t hate seeing it so much. The defiance in his Shield’s eyes had been brushed away, and the victory tasted bitter on his tongue.

‘No’, Gladio answered him with a hoarse voice. ‘…Your Majesty’, he added with little hesitance.

Noct pulled a face at the title as he let his shoulders slump, abandoning his rigid posture. ‘Good’, he said. ‘I expect you to move out as soon as we get word on Prompto’s or the hunter’s location.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘At ease’, Noct mumbled with a tired wave in his Shield’s direction before letting himself sink back down on his chair. ‘…Sorry’, he added quietly. ‘It’s just… you two are the only ones I trust with this.’

Gladio blinked, then he too relaxed and sat down heavily next to Noct. ‘Nah, don’t apologize. I guess I have to get used to the fact that I don’t have to hold your hand all the time anymore.’

Noct risked a sheepish glance at him from behind his bangs, but found no resentment or hurt in his friend’s face. He gave an amused snort. ‘Holding my hand? Kicking my butt maybe, or dragging me around by the scruff of my neck…’

‘Just doing what needs to be done to set you straight.’ Gladio chuckled and elbowed him lightly in the side. ‘Don’t think too much about it. We’re all good. You have the right to use that authority of yours, you know.’

‘Doesn’t mean I _like_ doing it’, Noct muttered.

Gladio offered him a grin in reassurance. ‘Just don’t make a habit out of it. People might find out that you’re actually just a cocky brat.’

‘Jerk.’

‘Wuss.’

‘If you two are finished…’, Ignis interrupted.

Noct returned his attention towards the table, the faint grin on his face fading away. ‘Right. So. Where do we start?’

***

Almost five hours later, Gladio’s phone chimed in his pocket. He answered the call and immediately put it on speaker.

 _‘Hey guys, so glad to hear from you’_ , Iris’s voice greeted them, her usual smile evident in her tone. It faded when she went on though, going straight down to business.

_‘So I’ve been asking around about that Varius guy. He’s the slippery type, wasn’t easy to find him.’_

Noct perked up. ‘But you found him?’

_‘Well… I found his trail. One of the guys here met him around the time he left Insomnia and could tell me in which direction he went. Then I just had to make about a hundred phone calls and now I know which outpost he came through. He bought gas - and groceries for a lot of days or several people.’_

‘Which means he was probably headed for their hiding place.’ Noct’s leg bounced impatiently, betraying his urge to jump up from his chair and pace across the room. They were close. Finally, they were close to _something_!

‘And do we know where that is?’, Ignis asked.

_‘Keycatrich Ruins. Or the fort next to them. I can’t tell you where exactly, but that’s the direction he went.’_

‘That’s not even that far’, Noct mumbled. ‘Wasn’t there a hunter outpost on the road leading there?’

‘Yeah, but it was abandoned during the Long Night’, Gladio answered. ‘Not much out there that needed protecting. It was never reclaimed as far as I know. And the fort is probably stuffed with old Niff tech, and the ruins are a damn maze. Sounds like a good hiding place to me.’

Noct let out his breath slowly, looking up to Ignis with wide eyes. ‘You think we found him?’, he asked quietly, a barely audible tremble in his voice. He almost didn’t dare to hope, but it all seemed to fall into place just right. _Please let it be right, please let him be there._

‘It certainly sounds like a viable lead’, the advisor agreed. ‘We can’t know for sure if Prompto is there, but it seems worth investigating.’

Noct clenched his fists, not sure what to feel. Hope, anticipation, anxiety… After days of things moving agonizingly slow, of waiting and worrying and hoping, now everything seemed to rush almost too fast, pulling the rug out from under his feet. His heart thumped wildly in his chest and he did his best to swallow down his nerves.

‘Iris’, he said. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. Just… thanks.’

 _‘No problem!’,_ she chirped. _‘Just bring him back in one piece, alright?’_

‘Will do.’

Gladio disconnected the call. He and Ignis sprang into action immediately, heading towards the door to prepare for their departure. None of them tried to argue about the mission anymore. Before stepping out on the corridor, Ignis turned back to Noct, giving him a short reassuring nod. His charge looked after them, trembling hands clasped tightly in his lap, wishing nothing more than to be able to follow them.

‘Bring him home safe.’ His voice was almost a whisper, but he was sure Ignis could hear it anyway. ‘Bring him back to me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wee, things are moving along at last!
> 
> Fun fact: I really didn't mean for Varius to have such a big role in this story. I originally wrote him to be a kinda ominous but mostly not-so-bad guy with just one small appearance. But then he snuck up on me, damn traitor. That's how he got his name, which can mean 'fickle' or 'double-minded'. The more you know...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's aliiiiiiive!  
> Sorry for the delay, but this chapter kinda kicked my ass and I had to rewrite it a few times. Anyway, enjoy!

He really missed Ignis’s cooking.

There were a lot more things Prompto missed as he was sitting in the corner of his cell, nibbling at the piece of bread that had come with the tasteless canned stew that was his dinner. He missed the sun, and not having walls pressing down on him from all sides, and seeing people who didn’t look at him like at a piece of furniture. He missed his friends. He missed Noct.

But all of those were dangerous to think about. So he tried to concentrate on the fact that he had food at all, that he wasn’t shackled to a metal cross and that the man on the other side of the bars seemed content running blood tests for now instead of jumping straight to the vivisection. Small mercies.

Judging by the number of meals he had received, he guessed that it had been three days since he’d first woken up in the cell. So far, every day had been the same; the man in the lab coat – the _Doc_ , Prompto still hadn’t found out his name – would come and brood over his notes and monitors for a while. Then he would take Prompto out of his cell, though he always got help from Varius after the first escape attempt. He would do whatever tests would come to his mind that day – running sensors over the blond’s body, checking his reflexes, taking more blood – and have the hunter take him back to his cell where he would wait for one of the Doc’s assistants to bring him some food.

The two assistants were both Niffs as well, and they were mostly silent presences scampering to and fro in a hurry to do the Doc’s bidding. Every so often there was an eyeroll at a harsh command or a quiet sigh and at first Prompto had thought that maybe he could count on a bit of compassion from them. But he’d given up on that hope the first time one of the men had looked him in the eyes, his expression full of disdain. It hit him harder than it should have. But it was another reminder that they didn’t view him any differently than any other MT, any other clone in Besithia’s facilities - a lifeless thing, a chunk of flesh meant to vegetate in an oversized test tube, waiting to be liquified and turned into black goo to power a soulless armour. The thought was still nauseating, no matter how many times Prompto was confronted with it. And here, it was ever-present; in the clinical white tile and gleaming steel of the room, in the empty eyes of the MTs on the walls and in the uncaring gazes of his captors. And he couldn’t help the fear – the silent, nameless terror – squirming in the back of his head that maybe, _maybe_ this scientist might find a way. Find something in his blood, etched in his DNA, that would allow him to be turned into one of _them_ after all.

His only consolation was that the Doc didn’t seem to be anywhere near that goal – though certainly not for lack of trying. Sometimes he would scatter some MT remains on the table and start picking them apart with an increasingly angry expression, until he threw them back to the ground and retreated to his desk to furiously scribble down more notes and diagrams. Sometimes he would take those notes and stand in front of the cell, staring at Prompto with that cold, calculating gaze. A gaze that seemed to strip him down and take him apart with all the passion of a mechanic taking apart an old radio to look for spare parts. He hated it. He hated how that man made him feel small and worthless and vulnerable when he should have been full of rage.

He just wanted to go home.

But his friends hadn’t come for him yet and that could only mean that they didn’t know where to look. So there was no telling when they would find out. And the longer he sat around in this cold cell, the longer the Doc kept drawing blood from him for his tests, the more he could feel himself grow dull and sluggish; his mind was moving slower and his body felt heavy and so light that it might float away at the same time. If he stayed here much longer, he wouldn’t have the strength left to fight back.

That was why on the third day, while he was nibbling on his bread and trying to shut out the screeching of metal as the Doc ripped apart another MT, he decided to escape.

***

He had found that lying around on the table with a plastic tube attached to his arm and his blood dripping into a bag with every one of his heartbeats had one advantage – he could look around the room from a different angle than his cell would allow him. And the Doc was mostly busy hovering over his monitors and ignoring him, therefore he was able to inspect his surroundings without being bothered. At first there hadn’t been much to see; but staring at the same things for what felt like hours had made him notice a few small details. Details that, on their own, didn’t seem like much. Like the patches of mould that only appeared on the wall on the far side of the room, where his cell was located. Or the piece of magitek armour in one of the corners, almost as big as one of Gladio’s shields. Or the remains of two shock-troopers stuffed into a storage rack.

Or the broken tip of an MT assassin’s blade that was lying around in one of the scattered piles on the floor, the one closest to his cell. It was about four inches long, narrow and very sharp.

As soon as he was back in the cell and the Doc had left the room, he dashed over to the bars and reached through them, stretching as far as he could. The blade fragment was right there, glinting enticingly in the cold light. For a moment, he thought that he would be able to reach it, and his heart jumped in his chest with excitement. _Just a little closer, just a bit…_ But then his shoulder protested painfully, and his arm wouldn’t stretch any further, no matter how hard he tried. There were maybe two inches separating the tips of his fingers from the metal shard. He could have screamed in frustration. Yet he kept reaching out, only stopping when he felt that he would end up dislocating his own shoulder if he went on.

He sat back and leaned his head against the wall, carefully flexing his sore arm. It was hopeless. The blade glinted, like a mocking wink. He scowled at it. If only he had something to extend his reach. He looked around the cell half-heartedly, already knowing that there was nothing there, nothing at all.

Except… except if he could pull something out of thin air.

He hadn’t tried for the armiger yet because his weapons were no longer there. He didn’t even know if he was still close enough to Insomnia to draw on the Crystal’s power, or if his captors had brought him out of the magic’s reach. But maybe. _Maybe._ It was worth a try.

He pressed himself into the corner, back turned towards the room to shield his hands from view. He didn’t want someone to walk in on him and see him summoning something in case he succeeded. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated on the familiar feeling of Noct’s magic. The feeling of _blue_ – of cold and ozone and raw, crackling power. It was there. Faint, flickering like a candle in the wind, but _there._ That meant he couldn’t be all that far from the Crown City, not much farther than Galdin Quay, anyway. That was good. He would be able to make it back once he got out. He quickly wiped away the maniacal grin spreading on his face. It was far too early to celebrate yet. Instead he reached a bit further, past the fabric of the world, and after a while of feeling around blindly, he stumbled across something solid. A dagger. A dagger? He didn’t own any daggers. The only melee weapon he felt comfortable using was a slim, single-bevelled blade that was currently stashed away under his bed back in Insomnia. But that really didn’t matter right now, because there was a _dagger_ in the armiger and he could just reach out to it and pull it over to the other side, as easily as plucking an apple from a tree.

In the end, it took him at least twenty attempts – at that point he stopped counting – to get it right. The magic kept slipping away at the last moment, and sometimes it seemed to dissipate entirely and returned only after minutes of poking and searching. But then there was a spark of blue and the dagger lay in his hands, solid and sharp. Seeing it, he even remembered where it had come from; Ignis had given it to him at some point, at the beginning of their journey. _Just in case,_ he had said. And since Prompto had never liked daggers – or any other weapon that required him to get close enough to his enemy to get hit by splattering blood – he had stuffed it into the armiger and forgotten about it.

He sent a silent prayer of thanks to all the Astrals and his own naïve younger self. The dagger was far too big to hide anywhere in his empty cell or his barely existent clothing, but it added a good ten inches to his arm’s reach. That was enough.

It took him maybe half an hour of poking and groaning until he held the piece of assassin blade from the scrap pile in his hands. He was soaked in sweat and his fingers were trembling from the suspense as he was finally able to snatch it. He let himself fall to the floor and allowed himself a moment to breathe, to enjoy the immense relief and the hope blooming in his chest as he traced the sharp edges of the blade. In that moment, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever held in his hands.

The metal shard was small enough to hide it between the fabric and the elastic band of his boxers once he had poked a hole in the seam. He had to be careful not to move around too much so he wouldn’t hurt himself on the blade, but he was reasonably sure that it wouldn’t catch anyone’s attention. He wasn’t happy dispelling the dagger to remain with just this one tiny scrap of metal as a weapon, but it was better than nothing. He still kept sifting through the armiger for a bit, in case there was anything else that could be of use.

And there was. Oh boy, there was.

Another flash of blue and he had to suppress a delighted squeal as he inspected the new, smooth weight in his hand. And just like that, there was a plan taking shape in his head. It would probably give Ignis and aneurysm with how stupid it was, but hey – not everyone could be a genius. Ignis would just have to shove it.

_It’s not stupid if it works._

IF _it works._

He would just have to wait for the perfect opportunity.

***

The perfect opportunity came the next day.

He was lying on the table, a needle in his arm, his blood dripping through the plastic tube attached to it. The Doc was bustling around by his desk. There was no one else in the room.

Prompto twisted in his restraints - just a bit, just far enough to see whether someone had messed with a particular pile of MT parts since he last checked. It still looked the way he remembered, a silent promise of hope. The scrap pile, the piece of MT armour, the blade fragment, the mould on the wall, the shock-troopers. Everything was in place. His heart was starting to beat faster in anticipation, and he tried to will it to a slower pace. He couldn’t afford to lose even more blood. Or, even worse, to attract the Doc’s attention.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Okay. He was doing this. If he failed, he was fairly sure he wouldn’t get another chance.

_No pressure._

He opened his eyes again and craned his neck far enough to see the Doc’s back turned in his direction, the man himself wholly engrossed in the incomprehensible readings flickering over his monitor.

Everything was ready. Everything was perfect.

_Time to get out of here._

***

Prompto wasn’t good at handling pressure. Especially if the situation demanded him to be quiet and stealthy. His usual method when dealing with stress was cracking bad jokes and fidgeting, but neither would help his situation right now. Ten years as a daemon hunter had helped him improve his patience somewhat – being too jumpy had been a good way to get killed back then – but it was always so much easier when he was able to _move_.

Now though, he forced himself to stay calm as he slowly twisted in his restraints, inch by painful inch. He desperately tried to convince his body that he was doing nothing out of the ordinary, that there was no reason for his heartbeat to quicken or for his breath to grow laboured or for sweat to appear on his forehead. He wasn’t very successful. He was pretty sure that anyone seeing him right now would know what he was up to; it had to be written all over his face in big neon coloured letters. One eye always watching the white lab coat at the edge of his field of vision - _don’t turn around, please don’t turn around_ \- he shuffled on the table until the fingers of his right hand could reach the seam of his boxers. Just a bit more, a tiny little bit – and the leather around his wrist gave a pitiful groan at the strain.

He froze.

The Doc turned around, his pale eyes squinting in Prompto’s direction disapprovingly.

The blond had to dedicate all his willpower to the task of wiping his face clean of all emotions while he forced himself to pick at the fabric of his boxers with his restrained hand as if he had not a care in the world.

‘What?’, he snapped in the other man’s direction with what he hoped to be a convincing show of annoyance. ‘ _You_ wanna scratch my balls for me? Didn’t think so.’

The disapproving look shifted into one of open distaste and the Doc turned back to his monitors without a comment. Prompto stared at his back for a few moments, calming his racing heart.

_Okay. It’s okay. You’re all good. Keep going._

He swallowed hard and twisted his hips the rest of the way, until his fingers could grip the small metal shard hidden in the seam of his boxers and pull it out. He hastily closed his fingers around the fragment and glanced in the direction of the desk again to make sure that the action hadn’t raised any suspicion. But his captor didn’t seem willing to give him any more attention.

_So far, so good._

Now came the difficult part - getting rid of the cuffs. The angle was awkward, and the sharp edges of the blade cut into his fingers until blood was seeping from his skin, rendering the metal dangerously slippery. He clenched his teeth and ignored the pain, as well as the fear of slipping up and slitting his own wrist by accident. In the end, he was drenched in sweat from head to toe and his fingers were numb and refused to bend properly – but finally, _finally_ he felt the leather give. 

_One down, three to go._

Thankfully, the cuffs had easily accessible buckles which rattled only slightly, even with his fingers being stiff and shaky. This time, he forbade himself from glancing back at the Doc; every second counted. He worked feverishly at the restraints, freeing first his left hand, then his feet. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. A surge of euphoria washed over him as the last buckle gave. He pulled the needle from his arm and slipped off the table as quietly as possible. His bare feet made almost no sound at all on the tiles as he crept towards the desk, the blade fragment clutched in his bloody hand. The other man was still oblivious to his movements.

Just a few more steps. Sneaking up behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck and pressing a hand over his mouth. Just like Varius had done to him in the alleyway back in Insomnia. It was easy. He could do it. He was almost there.

The Doc turned around.

His eyes widened as he saw the blond standing behind him. He took a half step back and opened his mouth, but the sound he was about to utter died in his throat as Prompto lunged at him, his fist colliding with the other man’s temple. The Doc stumbled backwards, his knees buckling under him, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he stumbled into the desk, grabbing at its edge for support. The noise rang loud in Prompto’s ears like a firework. He was sure someone must have heard it, they would know what was up, they could storm into the room any second…

The blade fell from his hand with a clatter that seemed loud enough to wake the dead. He balled his fist and struck again, with all his strength. This time, the Doc’s body went limp as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed on the ground, pulling half of the equipment on the desk down with him.

Prompto muttered a curse under his breath and raced back towards the steel table. If he could just tip it over, it would block the door to the corridor. Not for long, but maybe long enough. He threw himself against it with all the strength he had left. It was heavy, and his muscles screamed as he braced his hands against the table’s edge and lifted it, inch by painful inch. The rushing of his blood was almost too loud in his ears to hear the sound of footsteps on the corridor – but he heard them and doubled his effort. The footsteps stopped in front of the door, he saw the handle turning – and the table tipped over, crashing down on the tiles of the floor with an ear-splitting noise. The door opened a few inches and collided with the table. There was a loud curse on the other side.

Prompto forced himself to ignore the racket, to ignore the limp feeling in his arms after overexerting the muscles. Instead, he scrambled for the pile of scrap parts next to his cell and started to dig through it feverishly until he held a round glass object in his hands. It emitted a soft red glow and he felt the energy thrumming under the smooth surface.

It had taken him a long time to find the right spot to hide the flask of Fira he had found in the armiger – and even longer to find the courage to let it roll out of the cell and into the pile of scrap. He thought that it had to have been one of the most stressful things he’d done in his life, his hole mind racing with fear that the flask might shatter and blow up in his face or that he might miss and his best weapon would be discovered. But it hadn’t, and now he held a chunk of raw magic in his hands, a bottled firestorm.

_This is a bad idea. Shit, this is such a bad idea._

But there wasn’t really time to doubt his plan now. So he carefully set aside the magic flask and hurried over to the storage rack, pulling out the remains of the shock-troopers. His breath was laboured and his hands sweaty, but he barely noticed it. There was a banging noise and more curses outside the door. He had to hurry.

He dragged the empty shells of the MTs into his cell and propped them up against the wall. The only wall with mould on it. An outside wall. Just one layer of stone separating him from freedom.

_Not for much longer._

The piece of MT armour in the corner was heavier than he had thought, but he managed to lift it up and crawl behind it, wedged between the wall and the metal. He shifted it just far enough to be able to peek out, the flask of Fira grasped firmly in his hand. He took a deep breath.

The plan was simple. He had no idea how big the building was, or if there were guards or other security mechanisms outside the room. So the shortest and most certain way out was straight through the wall. Fira wouldn’t be enough to blow it up, but two Shock-Troopers were. He didn’t think that they were still primed – the Doc wasn’t _that_ stupid – but there still had to be some kind of explosive substance in there. Enough to get him out of here.

 _If_ there were still explosives. _If_ they could be set off with Fira. _If_ the explosion was strong enough to break the wall. Or weak enough to not blow him to bits along with everything else, MT armour or no. _If_ there were no guards outside the building to stop him.

_Screw it._

He raised the flask.

And hesitated as his eyes flickered towards the figure lying next to the desk. The man hadn’t so much as twitched since being knocked out. He looked… vulnerable. Helpless. An asshole who deserved it ten times over - the one who had caused him to kill again after finally leaving a decade of blood and death behind him. Prompto wished he had been possessed; a raging madman tainted by the scourge instead of… a human. A cold-hearted, uncaring and obsessed human he knew almost nothing about, but still a human. It would have made things so much easier.

There was another bang on the door, and the steel table moved. It skidded over the tiles, just a few inches, but it was enough to light a fearful spark in his chest. He bit his lip and turned away from the still figure on the ground.

He threw the flask.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead!  
> (Again) so sorry for the delay guys, but the current crisis is pretty hard on the company I work for so the last weeks were kinda stressful... hope you're all healthy and well and down for another chapter because we're getting close to the end and I'm hyped! Have fun and let me know what you think!

Keycatrich was a mess. The area was one of the many that hadn’t seen any rebuilding yet, as even before the Long Night it had housed no people besides a handful of hunters and a hoard of Niffs. Both were now long gone, and what was left was a sprawling labyrinth of rocks and ruins slowly drowning in wilderness. Even the road leading there was badly damaged, the concrete cracked and torn, making it inaccessible for vehicles. It cost them precious hours on their way from Insomnia as they had to find a way over rough terrain, the car moving at a snail’s pace to avoid sharp stone and treacherous mud. At some point Gladio was ready to ditch their ride and just walk the rest of the way, but Ignis insisted that four wheels were better than none, no matter how slowly they moved. One and a half days after their departure they finally reached their destination and made camp amidst the remains of the old hunter outpost.

They had taken a small team of Crownsguards with them. Gladio would never say it out loud, but as capable as Ignis was despite his lack of sight, scouting unfamiliar terrain was not one of his strengths. The advisor had to trail behind them as the others spread out to search the area. Gladio knew him well enough to see the irritated twitch in his friend’s features, the familiar frustration at being unable to contribute as much as he would like. But he didn’t voice any of it, having learned long ago to sit back and allow others to do the jobs he couldn’t anymore. Gladio didn’t bring it up either. Noct had wanted his two closest friends on this mission, therefore they would see it through. And as much as Gladio had tried to make a point in front of his charge, he knew why the King had insisted that they should be the ones to follow the hunter’s lead; after all, it was the closest he could get to doing it himself.

After finally having Prompto’s possible location revealed to them, Gladio himself hadn’t been any less eager than Noct to drive to Keycatrich right away, really. His King might be his number one priority in everything he did, always; but Prompto and Ignis were a solid second. Maybe third, after Iris. But his not-so-baby-anymore sister was hardly fair competition. Anyway - in Gladio’s books, putting any of them in harm’s way was the equivalent of signing one’s death warrant. He supposed his bad judgement on the day of the speech had done its fair share in that regard, and he would loathe himself for a long time for that; but his life was the King’s, and the King’s only. Therefore, to atone for his own stupidity, he would hunt down those that had dared to lay their hands on his friend. His friend who still looked far too much like that clumsy clueless kid that had first joined their party for Gladio not to slip into big brother mode around him. So Noct and his temper tantrums and that damn commanding aura he had whipped out from freaking nowhere aside – Gladio was ready to bash some skulls, and gladly so.

On day four of Prompto’s disappearance, Noct called. Their search so far hadn’t been going well, turning up nothing but rubble and dust. Gladio’s nerves were frayed from digging through empty ruins all day and he heaved a heavy sigh as the King’s name popped up on the display of his phone. Fully prepared for an onslaught of questions about their progress, he put the device to his ear.

‘Simmer down princess, we haven’t found anything yet…’

_‘Did any of you mess with the Armiger?’_

‘…Huh? No.’

Ignis approached, a silent question on his face, but Gladio just shrugged in answer.

_‘Then it was Prompto! He pulled something out, not a curative… probably a weapon.‘_

The Shield hummed in thought. ‘That’s good, right? If anything, it means he intends to kick some ass.’

 _‘Exactly!’_ Noct’s voice sounded hopeful, and a little breathless. He was probably wearing down the floorboards with his pacing right now. Gladio didn’t envy the staff that had to put up with him in his current mood - a brooding Noct was a pain in the ass in his own right, but at least a _silent_ one.

‘Alright, we better hurry before blondie takes out the bad guys all by himself and doesn’t leave any for us.’

_‘You guys got any leads?’_

‘Not yet. But there can’t be much of those damn ruins left that we haven’t searched yet – we’ll find him. You just sit tight for a bit longer.’

_‘Yeah. Okay. I’ll… leave you to it.’_

Gladio could hear the reluctance in his friend’s tone as he ended the conversation. If he could, Noct would probably have warped all the way from Insomnia in an instant to help them search. But instead he made good on his promise and let them work without throwing another tantrum. Maybe at some point even a royal pain in the ass grew into a responsible adult. It was never too late to hope.

Ignis frowned thoughtfully as Gladio relayed to him the contents of the call.

‘This tells us quite a bit, he said slowly. ‘For one, Prompto is still within reach of the Crystal’s magic. Furthermore, he is conscious and has at least enough freedom to call on the Armiger despite the difficulties this posed of late. It’s good news.’

Gladio nodded absent-mindedly and scratched his head. He looked over the sea of brown, green and ochre that stretched from where they stood all the way to the horizon. Contrary to what he had just told Noct, there was a _hell_ of a lot of those damn ruins left for them to search.

‘Let’s just hope he doesn’t do anything stupid until we find him’, he grumbled. He gestured for the Crownsguard that were scattered across the terrain to gather for a briefing - and jumped at the feeling of a hand on his arm. Ignis had stepped closer to his side, his head tilted in the Shield’s direction.

‘Then let us make sure we find him soon. Shall we?’

***

There was dust in his mouth. Gladio _hated_ dust in his mouth, even if he wasn’t bothered by most other things nature threw at him. Which was one reason why he wasn’t all that fond of Leide with its endless stretches of dry wasteland. And these particular ruins he would probably loathe for the rest of his life.

By now, he was pretty sure that the hideout they were looking for was not hidden between the rocks and crumbling walls they’d been searching for hours. There were many nooks and crannies one could have built an entire house in without being seen from afar, but they would have stumbled upon _some_ trace of life by now if that were the case. Which left the cave system sprawling beneath their feet or the remains of the imperial base to the north-east. The base had been Gladio’s first hunch, even before the ruins, after all – what better place to hide for a Niff than a former Niff stronghold? There had to be parts of all kinds of military experiments and weird weapons scattered there that those bastards would just love to get their hands on. But as they had passed the base on their way to the hunter outpost, the whole structure had proven to be all but pulverized - probably overrun by daemons during the Long Night. The remains had looked dangerously unstable and untouched by humans, but by now Gladio was asking himself if that hadn’t been a farce to conceal something else hidden among the collapsed buildings and crumbling walls.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the clock; two hours, that was the time limit he had set for them to check the rest of the ruins. They had already spent an eternity wandering the abandoned area before they’d had to give up when night had fallen, and he wouldn’t allow them to waste another day doing the same. Two hours after sunrise, and they would move on to either the tunnels or the base. He wasn’t exactly comfortable making this decision – while he was itching to get a move on, he couldn’t shake the gnawing worry that _maybe_ they had missed something, and that by turning their backs on this area, they might just leave Prompto to his fate.

But time was up.

He spat out another mouthful of dust and shouldered his greatsword. The thing was awfully inconvenient to lug around, but he would rather chop off one of his hands and leave it at the camp than walk around without a weapon when searching for enemies.

He was just about to fall back to their meeting point as the sound of an explosion ripped through the air.

He whirled around, body slipping into a battle stance without a thought. He didn’t have to look far to see the cloud of dust rising in the distance, just a bit south of the imperial base. Its source wasn’t visible from where he stood, but the dust suggested that a building or part of a mountain had collapsed. The sound however pointed towards heavy explosives and as he watched, a plume of dirty grey smoke followed the dust cloud into the sky. For a moment Gladio just stared, dumbfounded by the unlikely disturbance. But then it properly registered in his brain and he jolted, turning to storm down the hill he was standing on and towards the others.

When he reached their designated meeting point panting and sweating after a full-on sprint across the uneven terrain, Ignis already awaited him with a frown on his face. The rest of the Crownsguard was gathering behind him in the blissfully cool shadow of an overhang in the rock.

‘What is going on?’, the advisor asked as soon as Gladio skidded to a halt in front of him. ‘I heard an explosion.’

‘Yeah, me too’, Gladio panted. ‘It’s back behind the base, I can see the smoke.’ He squinted, trying to get a better look at where the noise should have originated. The air was clearing fast, but a steady stream of smoke still rose behind the steep cliffs of the trench.

‘You think a spell could have done that?’, he voiced the thought that had come to him on his mad dash towards the meeting point. After all, there _had_ been a few elemental flasks left somewhere in the Armiger – and Prompto was probably crazy (and by now desperate) enough to just blow his captors to hell given the opportunity. Gladio just hoped he had also been smart enough not to lose an arm or a leg while doing it.

But Ignis shook his head. ‘Not on its own. Elemental magic can produce quite a shockwave, but not an explosion such as this.’

‘But _something_ caused it, right? We should check it out.’

‘Indeed.’ The advisor cocked his head, that stern look on his face that meant he was listing all possible outcomes of a situation in his head and did not like what he saw. ‘But let’s be cautious. We do not know what we will face.‘

‘You got it’, Gladio growled, his gaze already fixed on the spot on the horizon where the smoke was still rising into the clear sky. He picked up his greatsword once more and motioned for the Crownsguard to follow him as he stepped out of the shadow and into the scorching heat of the sun. His fingers tightened around the handle of the sword. He had tasted blood.

‘Let’s go, boys. We got ourselves some Niffs to catch.‘

***

The path leading past the steep cliffs surrounding Keycatrich trench was so narrow and overgrown they almost missed it. Gladio doubted that it was the way their targets normally used to reach their hideout, provided that they were indeed on the right track; it looked far too inconvenient to be chosen as a default route. But it led in the right direction, therefore they made up their minds quickly and started to scale the steep mountain trail. It wound around the side of the cliff and ever higher, until it reached the rolling green and brown landscape surrounding the trench. The remains of the imperial base loomed to their right, imposing despite its poor state, but Gladio was much more interested in the low, inconspicuous building that cowered on the side of the hill the base was built on. It looked like it might have been a storage building of some kind, and it was in far better shape than the main structures up top. There was a steady stream of smoke rising into the sky above it.

Gladio waved for the Crownsguard to follow him while he crouched in the shadows of some shrubs. He carefully inched closer to get a better look at the bare concrete walls that almost fused into the background due to a generous layer of dirt and desert dust. They were maybe a quarter mile away from the building – close enough to be spotted on open terrain. They had to be careful.

Ignis crouched next to him, head lowered as he listened intently for any noises from his surroundings. Gladio explained to him what he saw in a hushed voice, and the advisor’s frown deepened with a hint of grim satisfaction in the lines of his face.

‘It certainly seems like a good hiding spot’, he murmured. ‘Can you see signs of the explosion other than the smoke?’

‘No.’ Gladio shook his head. From where they stood the building looked old and decrepit, but intact. ‘Maybe it’s on the back.’

‘Do we have any means to approach without being seen?’, Ignis asked.

Gladio considered for a moment, weighing their options. He was itching to just storm the building – he was pretty sure that there was no big military force hiding in there, otherwise they would have seen guards, vehicles, some sign of activity… and besides, they had done far crazier things in their life. The only reason he was looking for a more subtle approach was the possibility that Prompto was in that building and that they couldn’t guarantee for what his captors would do to him if they were under attack. Also, one of the bastards slipping away in the heat of a frontal assault was a risk he was not willing to take.

‘We’ll have to stick to the rocks until we’re close to the base, then loop back around. Otherwise we’ll be sitting ducks.’

‘Lead the way.’

It _was_ somewhat nostalgic. The two of them, out in the wilds, taking on unknown odds. Gladio probably would have been excited about being in the field again after staying cooped up behind Insomnia’s walls for over a year, were it not for his persisting worry for his friend. As it was, he concentrated on calming his heartbeat and slipping into that state of calm reason he had always both loathed and envied in his father. It had taken him some time, but he had learned that going full-on professional was usually the best way to get shit done without stepping on too many toes. Reining in his temper could still be a pretty tough task, but some causes were worth the trouble.

When he was reasonably sure that he wouldn’t stab the first guy they crossed paths with right away, he started to move along the rocks that were lining the edge of the trench. Careful to stick to the jagged shadows they painted on the dusty ground, he made his way closer to the storage building, the others right on his heels. They passed the building and abandoned the cover of the rocks to walk along the slope leading up towards the base instead. There was not a soul in sight, the area looking utterly abandoned. But when they had finally come close enough to their target to make out details, Gladio noticed with a new surge of adrenaline what they had been looking for: A part of the wall on the back of the building had collapsed - or rather had blown up, blackened debris scattering the ground in front of it.

‘Seems like we’re on the right track’, he muttered in Ignis’s direction. ‘Let’s have a peek inside.’

Gladio had thought about taking a member of their backup team with him for the reconnaissance. If they went as a group they would be spotted immediately, so a team of two was the most reasonable option. Ignis wouldn’t have objected to staying behind, but Gladio couldn’t bring himself to suggest it. The advisor was just as worried about Prompto as he was; and after surviving Zegnautus and ten years as a daemonhunter without his eyes, no one would dare cast doubt on Ignis’s abilities. That didn’t mean Gladio felt entirely comfortable sending him into unknown terrain.

In the end it was still the two of them sneaking up to the hole the explosion had ripped through the wall, with the Crownsguard staying behind in case they needed support. And despite the urge to look out for his friend, Gladio wouldn’t have it any other way. This was personal, for both of them.

As they approached the destroyed part of the building, backs pressed firmly against the rough wall to avoid detection, there still was no visible movement aside from themselves. They navigated the debris as quickly and quietly as possible and slipped inside the building without incident. The room they found themselves in was destroyed almost beyond recognition. The walls might have been white at some point; there were blackened and bend metal bars sticking out of a floor covered in cracked tiles and a heavy steel table lying in the middle of the room, covered in dust and soot. But Gladio’s attention was caught by something else.

‘What the hell…’, he muttered under his breath as he crouched down to inspect some charred lumps of metal littering the floor.

‘What is it?’, Ignis asked.

‘Those are MTs. At least, what’s left of them after they were flambéed.’

The advisor reached out and carefully ran his hands over one of the machine parts, tracing the outlines with his fingertips. ‘The hunter did say that his employer was interested in magitek; it’s not completely unexpected that this person collected what was left of the Empire’s… products.’

‘Huh.’ Gladio picked up a piece of a facemask and examined it with a frown. ‘You think that’s why he was after Prompto? To add him to his _collection_?’

Ignis only shook his head to indicate that he wouldn’t know, but his face betrayed barely hidden disgust. Gladio could empathise all too well.

There wasn’t much else in the room that was of note – or recognizable at all. A massive fire seemed to have devoured everything in reach, a fire that had disappeared suspiciously soon after breaking out. Like a fire born from elemental magic would. Gladio was just about to open his mouth for a ‘told you so’, but then his eyes fell upon something weird in a corner of the room. The corner was the only place that seemed to have been largely unaffected by the explosion; at least a small spot of it. Upon closer inspection, the Shield found a piece of magitek armour that fit perfectly with the small uncharred space. The metal had bent and cracked under the force of the blast, but it seemed to have held well enough. There was a bloody handprint on the edge of the makeshift shield, a small hand with slim fingers. He stared at it, imagining the scene in his head; Prompto cowering in the corner and holding on to this scrap of metal for dear life as he unleashed hell just a few feet away. He set the piece aside with a heavy breath.

‘We gotta find him, Iggy’, he mumbled.

Ignis was still examining a piece of an MT unit with a scowl on his face. He raised his head at the sound of Gladio’s voice, but he didn’t get the chance to answer. There were footsteps on the other side of the door that hung slightly ajar in its angles. Two sets of footsteps, hasty, angry. Voices muttering under their breath. Neither of them moved a muscle until it became evident that the strangers were walking past them without paying any attention towards the damaged room. As soon as the noises had moved almost out of earshot, Ignis sneaked towards the door with intent, motioning for Gladio to follow him. He didn’t even wait for confirmation that the other man was behind him before slipping out into the empty corridor.

Gladio made sure that there were no unpleasant surprises lurking in either direction, even if he trusted Ignis’s hearing to detect any hidden enemy without fail. He spotted a stack of storage crates a few feet down the corridor, close to another door that was opened just a small crack but far enough to allow the voices on the other side to drift out into the hallway. They tiptoed towards it and cowered behind the crates. Straining his ears, Gladio could catch what was being said behind the door.

‘…have a contract, that’s why’, spoke a man with a nasal voice and a distinct Niflheim accent.

‘You mean I had a contract with your boss’, answered a second man. Lucian. He sounded annoyed. ‘In case you didn’t notice, your boss is a piece of charcoal now. So no deal.’

‘We can still pay you.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks. No money’s worth getting blasted to bits. Deal with your psycho MT yourself.’

They ducked their heads lower behind the crates as someone – probably the Lucian – stormed out of the room. Thankfully he was heading away from them, and Gladio took the opportunity to crane his neck far enough to catch a glimpse of the man’s back.

‘Was that our man?’, Ignis asked in a hushed voice.

‘I dunno, could be’, Gladio whispered back. ‘Couldn’t see much, but he fits the description.’

‘Then allow me…’

Gladio stared with an open mouth as Ignis slipped past him without a sound, daggers already drawn. He moved down the hallway without hesitation, aiming for the man’s back with all the precision of someone who still had all five of their senses to rely on. It wasn’t like Gladio hadn’t had ample opportunity to observe the advisor’s abilities in the past; it was just that an action as bold as this was not usually Ignis’s style. Despite of that, the Shield could only watche in awe as his friend snuck up to the stranger without effort, the other never seeing him coming until there was a blade kissing his throat and he was dragged around a corner and into the shadows. The whole action had been completely silent save a small sound of surprise that was quickly stifled.

Gladio took a short moment to make sure that Ignis’s operation hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention. Then he followed the other man past the crates and the open door and around a corner. And blinked in amazement at the scene in front of him.

The stranger stood with his face smushed into the wall, one arm twisted on his back at a painful angle and a dagger pressed against the skin just above his adam’s apple, the edge cutting deep enough to draw a few drops of blood. Ignis’s form was impeccable as always, but the expression on his scarred face was downright _nasty_. Gladio couldn’t help but feel pity for the poor guy on the receiving end of the advisor’s anger, even if it didn’t last long.

‘Now, would you be so kind as to tell us your name?’, Ignis asked; perfectly polite, but with an icy edge to his voice.

‘Varius. Varius Rideo. C’mon, man, I’m just doing a job here. There’s nothing illegal about taking money from Niffs.’

‘And what would your _job_ entail?’, Ignis dug deeper while putting just a bit more pressure on the man’s arm. There was a pained grunt and Gladio took a quick peek around the corner to ensure they wouldn’t get jumped by any attentive Niffs.

‘Just doing their dirty work; whatever sick shit they’re up to, I swear that’s none of my business.’

Gladio shot the two of them a glance just in time to see the hunter trying to twist out of Ignis’s grasp with a practiced motion. It was obvious that he was quite skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but he only ended up having his face shoved forcefully against the rough concrete of the wall once more, his arms flailing helplessly as the edge of the dagger on his neck pressed deeper. Ignis was on a roll.

‘Interesting’, the advisor said as if he hadn’t just manhandled an experienced fighter easily his own size into submission. ‘In that case I only have one more question for you. We are looking for a friend, you see. Does by any chance the name Prompto Argentum mean something to you?’

The hunter’s shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes. ‘Fuck’, he muttered.

‘I see.’ Ignis’s fingers twitched around the hilt of his dagger, enough for his captive to suck in a sharp breath and squirm uneasily in his grasp. ‘So where would we find him?’

‘I don’t know, seriously’, the hunter quickly answered. ‘That lunatic blasted himself out and ran away. Don’t know where he went – don’t care.’

Ignis answered with a noncommittal hum before turning his head towards Gladio. ‘Call in the Crownsguard’, he ordered. ‘I’m sure they can take it from here. We should go and find Prompto.’

If Ignis had suggested he put on a skirt and distract their enemies with a belly dance, Gladio probably wouldn’t have disagreed. His friend was downright terrifying when he was truly pissed. As it was, the Shield could only wholeheartedly agree. The cavalry could deal with Niff scientists, treacherous hunters and whatever else might be found in this hole – the two of them had more important things to do.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wohoo, we made it to the end! Not gonna lie, endings are a bitch. But I hope I got this one right. Have fun!

His ears were ringing. There were other sounds around him, too, but they sounded muffled and far away. His skull was throbbing with pain and when he opened his eyes, everything looked blurry. The air was dry and full of dust and it was hot, so hot. His ribs ached as he drew in a breath, and it felt like breathing fresh embers. There was ash on his tongue. When he managed to lift his hand and touch his face, his fingers came away wet.

The light around him changed from a moving, flickering orange to a light grey. At the same time the heat started to ebb away, just a little. His body hurt. His head hurt. There was a weight on him, hard and relentless. He should lie down.

Yes. Lie down. Ignis had told him once, hadn’t he? Moving around with a head injury wasn’t good. There wasn’t much he was sure of right now, but he was pretty sure that he had a head injury. So he shouldn’t move. He would just close his eyes for a bit. Maybe his head would stop hurting so much when he couldn’t see the light anymore. The guys had to be somewhere nearby, right? They always were. He just had to wait for them. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if he slept a while until they found him. He was so tired.

There was a weird patch of light. It looked different from the other blurry patches of light around him, less… dirty. He felt a draft of cool, fresh air on his face. It came from the light. It felt sharp and icy on his raw skin and he wanted to hide from it, but he also wanted to feel more of it. There was something about it, something that made him want to get up and walk into the light. No, walk _out_. Out of the dirty grey and the heat and the dust. Outside. Yes. Outside was important. He remembered now. He had to go outside.

Moving was hard. His skin felt as if it was about to crack as it stretched too tightly over his bones and the colours in front of his eyes began to dissolve and dance around him as soon as he started to haul himself upright. The weight pressed on him, pinning him down, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t just his body feeling heavy. There was something lying on top of him. After a few feeble attempts he managed to push it off him far enough to crawl out from under it. Then towards the light. He had to feel his way around since he couldn’t really rely on his vision. The ringing in his ears didn’t stop and it tore at his nerves.

There was cracked tile under his fingers, warm to the touch. Metal, warped and bent with sharp edges. Then, rubble. Earth. Grass.

The surface he was moving on became flat, with less obstacles. Leading uphill. He picked up his pace, climbing the slope in front of him, not daring to turn left or right for fear of losing his way and ending up back where he started.

His ears were ringing. His head hurt. But he was outside. He was outside. It would be alright. 

***

Prompto didn’t know how long he had wandered around the unfamiliar terrain until he had found a place his addled brain had deemed safe enough to hide in. He had wanted to go to sleep, his mind hazy and exhaustion settling deep in his bones. Only the constant, nerve-wracking ringing in his ears had kept him awake. Now that his thoughts had cleared a bit, he was grateful for that. He still kinda wanted to tear his eardrums to shreds just to make it stop, but he didn’t like the idea of what could have happened if he’d lost consciousness.

His eyesight had improved, too. Not much, but enough to determine that he was wedged in a tight space between the remains of a wall and the rusty metal of an old storage container. The gap he had squeezed through was just large enough for him to get an impression of his surroundings beyond his hiding place. A really vague impression, considering that most of what he saw still resembled random blobs of colour that mingled at the edges. But something about the things around him seemed familiar, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it. And thinking about it hurt his head, so he didn’t. It didn’t matter where he was, it only mattered that they didn’t find him. He wasn’t entirely sure who _they_ were, but surely there had to be a _they_ – his mind supplied a blurry image, a flash of white fabric and grey hair, rough hands and a crescent shaped scar – and his instincts screamed at him to keep hidden, no matter what. _They_ were bad. _They_ would hurt him. Maybe _they_ would put him back in the room with the heat and the dust and the sharp rubble under his hands. So he kept sitting in his hide-out, careful not to make a single sound, and waited.

He jerked upright when he heard voices. He hadn’t realized that he had fallen asleep; or maybe his thoughts had just started to fade out, get a break from the painful throbbing in every single one of his body parts and the shrill sound in his ears. The constant ringing had faded into a pulsating rhythm, and he couldn’t tell what was more unnerving. But more important right now, the sound drowned out the voices outside his hiding place. At least he thought they were voices – it was hard to tell with how muffled they were, as if they were underwater. No matter, they were a foreign presence, and that meant that _they_ had found him. Or were about to. He had to run.

No, wait. He couldn’t run. He could barely see, and his head hurt with every motion. And they hadn’t found him yet. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they would walk right past him. Yes. He just had to stay still. They wouldn’t even see him. Maybe he could be so still that they would ignore him. Like those animals. Coerls? No, not Coerls. Some kind of bug. Or a frog? There was an image in his head of a giant bloated frog in a lab coat, staring right at him with his big goggly eyes, croaking in confusion because it couldn’t see the Prompto-statue right in front of him. For some reason, the thought was hilarious. Hilarious enough that a hysterical little giggle escaped between his lips. He couldn’t hear it, but he felt it in his throat; more a raspy wheeze than an actual laugh, but a sound nonetheless.

Immediately, he clapped his hands over his mouth, but the damage was done. He listened for the voices with wide eyes. It only made the ringing louder, the rhythm swelling to a maddening tune. There! Were they closer than before? He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t hear… He scrambled backwards, trying to force his aching body even deeper into the dark narrow space, out of view, into hiding, hide, hide, _hide!_

His back hit a sheet of metal that was leaning against the rust-eaten hull of the storage container. It skidded over the concrete with a screeching sound.

The voices grew louder, now he was sure of it. He thought he could feel quick footsteps approaching, making the ground tremble under his fingertips. A shadow appeared in the gap in front of him, it was shouting, it started squeezing into the niche he was cowering in, reaching out for him…

The shadow was too big. It had to stop and pull back, and Prompto was able to breathe again. His heart was still hammering and _damn, why wouldn’t this ringing just STOP!?_ The shadow said something, the voice a distorted rumble that was almost drowned out by the sound in his ears. The shadow lingered for a moment, staring at him, then it retreated. As soon as it was out of sight, Prompto began to scramble for the gap. It was stupid, running towards the voices – but he had to get out of here, he had to hide somewhere safe, maybe the shadow was gone, maybe it had given up, the gap was _right there…_

Strong arms caught him the moment he stumbled out of his hiding spot. There were rough hands on his wrists, restraining him, and he screeched and flailed and kicked out. His elbow dug into soft tissue and he more felt than heard the grunt from the other man – it was a man, right, not a shadow, he could fight a man, if only his head didn’t hurt so _damn much_.

He almost didn’t see the second man approaching, but he felt his hands as they grabbed his face and held it steady. There was another voice, loud, insistent, trying to break through the haze. It made his head hurt even more. Then something was shoved in his hand, a cool, smooth shape, and fingers closed around his own and squeezed.

The relief was instant. Magic washed through his body and soothed the pain. The throbbing in his skull ebbed away, leaving only a slight ache and disorientation. His sight didn’t return immediately, but with every blink, his surroundings came into focus a bit more. He squinted. There was purple. Dark purple, with… coerl print? The purple shifted and was replaced with a face. A scarred face wearing a deep frown. Its lips were moving, but the voice was still muffled, too far away.

Then, a sharp _pop._ He jumped in surprise as the ringing cut off and was replaced by the sounds of wind, of singing birds and rustling gras and a familiar, frantic voice.

‘…to? Prompto, can you hear me? I need you to calm down, it’s us, you’re safe…’

‘Iggy?’, he croaked. Shit, he sounded bad.

Ignis fell silent and breathed a relieved sigh. Only then did Prompto become aware of the arms that were still holding him; tight enough that his feet were dangling a few inches above the ground. Now the arms relaxed and set him down carefully, but they didn’t let go entirely so he wouldn’t fall over. He looked down and saw tanned skin and black ink, and relief washed over him so strongly that his knees almost buckled under his weight.

‘Easy there, kid’, Gladio rumbled behind him and pulled him closer, so that Prompto could lean against his broad chest for support. Then the Shield slowly lowered them to the ground, until they were both sitting on the cracked concrete.

‘’m sorry’, Prompto mumbled. ‘I was kinda out of it…’

‘Don’t worry about that’, Ignis interrupted him softly. ‘You are safe now, that is all that matters.’

‘That’s what you get for blowing up a bomb right in your own face.’ Gladio scooted around so Prompto could see his broad grin, though he kept a hand on his back to steady him. ‘Seriously, though. What you did back there? I’m impressed.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m badass’, Prompto chuckled. It might have sounded more convincing if he didn’t slur his words so much. Maybe he would try that again once he'd had some sleep. Right now, he just relished the feeling of the familiar presences around him, the soothing voices and grounding touches, his own relief mirrored in their faces.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he jerked up, eyes wide.

‘Scar’, he said. ‘Uhm, Varius. The hunter. And… and the Niffs. What…’

‘It’s alright’, Ignis reassured him. ‘They are being taken care of.’

‘We brought a team of Crownsguards. They’re taking the place apart right now’, Gladio added. Prompto relaxed visibly at the news. He looked more awake now though, and seeing the haze cleared from the blond’s eyes, Gladio dug for the phone in his pocket and pulled it out. ‘I think we’re due for a phone call, though’, he said with a grin. ‘Wanna do the honours?’

Prompto blinked at the device Gladio held out to him. A contact was already selected and reading the name made his chest hurt. He snatched away the phone as quickly as his shaking hands allowed and jabbed his finger down on the call button.

 _‘Gladio?’_ , Noct answered after the first ring. His voice sounded frantic, laced with a sliver of hope. Prompto could have cried. It felt so long ago that he had last heard him and it seemed so unfair that he wasn’t there now; Prompto would have hugged him and held him close, so close that he would have felt that little hitch in Noct’s breath and arms tightening around him in return. He would have felt the touch of slender fingers in his hair and things would have been right again. But his voice was there and that was something. It was the best feeling he’d had in a long while. So he pressed his quivering lips together tightly and put on his broadest smile.

 _‘Gladio?’_ , Noct repeated as he heard no answer. _‘Are you there? Have you found anything?’_

‘Yeah, you could say that.’

_‘Prompto?!’_

‘The one and only.’ Prompto tried to force a laugh, but it came out as a sad little hiccup. It was just so much. ‘Hey there, buddy.’

_‘What happened? …Never mind that, are you alright? Are you hurt?’_

‘Nah, just a few bumps and bruises.‘

‘Those were hardly just –‘, Ignis piped up behind him, but Prompto cut him off.

‘Don’t listen to Iggy’, he said. ‘The guys potioned me up and now I’m good as new. I’m fine.’

_‘Prom…’_

The blond gave a weary chuckle. ‘…Sorry. I guess I kinda overused that line in the last weeks, huh?’

Noct didn’t answer, but Prompto knew. He knew he was an idiot for not talking to him sooner. He was an idiot for thinking that if he just pretended for long enough, his problems would go away. That his friends wouldn’t have to get involved and they wouldn’t have to worry, and they wouldn’t get hurt. But now his friends were right there, and it was good. He was still shaking and there was a lump in his throat that made talking difficult, but it was good.

‘Seriously, though. I’m… okay’, he said, and he meant it. ‘Or at least, I will be. I just can’t wait to get home.’

 _‘You do that’_ , Noct answered, his tone was soft. _‘You come home safe. The Crownsguard can handle the rest.’_

‘Yeah.’ Prompto had to blink away the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. _Home_. He was going home. Noct was there. It would be fine. ‘See you back home.’

***

He didn’t remember much about the journey back to Insomnia. He remembered going back to the car, with warm hands on his arms to steady him. He remembered waking up somewhere on the road to find that he had drooled all over Gladio’s shoulder in his sleep. He remembered seeing the outlines of the Crown City on the horizon and almost crying again, before reminding himself that he was a grown-ass man and a hunter, and he would not start sobbing over some damn concrete walls. Even if those were probably the most beautiful concrete walls he had seen in his entire life.

Then he woke up in a bed. It was so soft that it felt like lying on a cloud and for a moment he just breathed and enjoyed the feeling. But his curiosity got the better of him and finally he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a needle sticking out of his arm and his heartbeat spiked. He jerked upright and scrambled to pull it out. His brain checked in just in time for him to realize that the needle wasn’t bleeding him dry; it was connected to a bag of clear fluid that hung from an IV stand next to the bed. Also there were no restraints and the light was soft and natural instead of harsh and white. After a few deep breaths he looked around, and the room was familiar. He was in Noct’s apartment. The sun fell through the windows and painted golden patterns on the blanket over his legs. He could hear the sounds of the city somewhere in the distance. It felt peaceful.

His gaze fell on the bedside table. His camera was lying there. It was dusty and the casing had obviously taken a beating. He picked it up, carefully cradling it in his hands like a bird with a broken wing. While it stung to see his most precious possession battered like this, he hadn't dared to hope seeing it again at all after losing it back in the alleyway where Varius had snuck up on him. The Crownsguard must have found it there or in the building he’d been kept in. He pressed the power button and watched with an excited little spark in his chest how the scratched screen flickered to life. He was just about to look whether his pictures were still there when the door opened.

He startled a little at the sound but relaxed quickly when a familiar figure entered the room. Noct tiptoed through the door and closed it quietly behind him. Only then he turned around and jumped when he saw that Prompto was awake and watching him. But before the blond could say anything, Noct had crossed the room with quick steps and pulled him into a tight hug.

Prompto melted into the embrace. It was warm, and it smelled like Noct. He could feel the soft black hair tickling his face and the other man’s racing heart beating against his own. Unable to help himself he leaned closer and wrapped his arms around Noct’s body, his hands gripping two fistful of his shirt so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Noct didn’t let go. He just sat there, holding him, and allowed him to soak in the feeling. Prompto could have stayed like this for hours, but there was something burning on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t look Noct in the eyes though, so he buried his face in the crook of the other’s neck instead.

‘I’m sorry…’, he whispered.

‘Don’t’, Noct interrupted him softly before he could even take another breath to continue. ‘You don’t have to be sorry for anything.’

Prompto gave a wry chuckle. ‘What, no lecture on lying to you and consequently getting myself kidnapped?’ His voice was muffled by Noct’s shirt, but he didn’t care for dislodging from their hug.

‘I think Gladio got that covered.’

‘You’re not mad?’

‘Hell no.’ Noct started rubbing small soothing circles on the base of the blond’s neck and Prompto felt himself turn into comfortable jelly. Comfortable jelly with anxiety, but there was a start. Noct’s voice was a quiet rumble against his cheek. ‘I was worried sick and I was pissed that I couldn’t help you, but I was never mad at you.’

‘Still… I’m sorry. For worrying you. And.. for not talking to you. And for getting kidnapped, I guess.’

There was a shaky little laugh from Noct and he tightened his arms around Prompto. ‘Just… never do that again. Never.’

‘I’m on board with that’, Prompto agreed wholeheartedly. It wasn’t an experience worth repeating.

In the end they had to separate because their muscles started to ache in the awkward position they were sitting in. Prompto scooted over, inviting Noct to sit with him on the bed, back leaned against the headboard. After he had settled, Noct took one of the blond’s hands in his own and started to trace lazy patterns on the palm.

‘Prom?’, he asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Prompto looked up and he could feel a lump in his throat. Noct’s expression didn’t betray anything, but he could tell that this was something that had been weighing heavily on the other’s mind. He might not have been mad, but that didn’t mean he could just shrug off being left out.

‘I mean…’, Noct continued quickly, ‘I know what you told Gladio, and I get that you didn’t want to worry us. But… you didn’t really think I would go full tyrant if you told me, right?’

Prompto shook his head emphatically. Noct was acting like it was no big deal, but the hurt was there, somewhere beneath the surface. He had to dispel it, he had to explain. If only he had the right words for it.

‘No, I- no. I know you wouldn’t. It’s just… ‘ He mad a vague gesture with his free hand. ‘It was all good, y’know? I never had that before. I had my shit sorted out and you and the guys and the kingdom at peace and… it was perfect. I just wanted it to be perfect.’ He was avoiding Noct’s eyes, staring down at the camera instead. Tracing all the new little scars and blemishes. ‘And then these guys come along and tear it all down. I know how hard it was last time to crawl out of that hole and I… I felt that I couldn’t do that again. Then that hunter started talking about the peace in Lucis and how that first attack could push it all over the edge if it became public. So I guess I just took that to distract myself. Just so I would have a reason to forget about all of it.’ His fingers tightened around Noct’s. ‘And even though I knew that you wouldn’t really do anything rash… I dunno. It was perfect, and I messed it up. I didn’t want to mess it up for you guys too.’

‘Prompto…’, Noct breathed. He looked like he was about to say something else, but he stopped himself, pulling a thoughtful frown.

‘You know why no one’s working on rebuilding the Citadel yet?’, he finally asked. Prompto blinked in surprise.

‘Uhm… because there are better uses for your money right now?’

‘Yeah, that too. But…’ Noct shook his head, searching for words. ‘Truth is, I’m terrified. I know that once I go back… it will be so real. What has happened. How different everything is now. I can’t imagine returning there, and sit where my dad used to sit, and constantly being reminded of how things used to be. How he would have acted in my place. And how stupid I was the last time I walked out of that building before… everything. I guess what I’m trying to say is – we all got our baggage. It’s okay if it’s not perfect.’

‘You…’ Prompto let out a deep breath and chuckled, blinking away the sting in his eyes. ‘Dammit, you can’t just start saying profound shit like that. I’m gonna get feelings.’

Noct snorted with an exaggerated pout. ‘Yeah, yeah…’ He still pulled him closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Then his gaze fell on the camera that lay abandoned on the sheets. ‘Think you can salvage anything from that?’

Prompto picked it up and turned it thoughtfully in his hands. ‘Maybe. The display still works at least. Wanna see the pictures I took of you making a fool of yourself on stage?’

‘Sure. Bring it on.’

***

The next few days were exhausting. Prompto had to stay in bed for a while because of the concussion he had suffered from the explosion. He appreciated the rest, but he was getting antsy. Sitting around all day and waiting for things to unfold was a little too much like his days in captivity. As things were, he was just glad that the doctor had agreed on putting him in Noct’s apartment for monitoring instead of the medical wing. He wasn’t sure he could have handled examination rooms and people in white coats just yet.

Even as he was still recovering, he had to answer questions. The people that had been found in the building near Keycatrich were locked away, but the Crownsguard was still conducting a full blown investigation to sniff out their contacts and possible accomplices. Prompto was glad about it, but he was also getting really tired of talking about the same things over and over again. Ignis briefed him regularly, but so far, there wasn’t much to add to the picture. A fanatic researcher from Besithia’s labs that survived the daemon invasion in Niflheim, only to try and resume his work on Lucian soil. Apparently, he had done so just for the hell of it; there was no evidence of him acting on somebody’s orders or trying to sell whatever progress he had made. Which thankfully wasn’t much, at least according to the lucian engineers analysing every piece of documentation they had found in the Niff’s hideout.

Everything pointed towards a lone operator, an unlucky coincidence. But it got Prompto thinking. He was thinking hard, and then he came to a decision.

About two months later, he announced that he would go on another trip across the continent. The others looked at him in various states of surprise, and it was Ignis who spoke first.

‘If you are sure about that - I don’t see why not.’

‘Are you crazy?’ Gladio snapped, but he reined himself in quickly. ‘I mean… don’t you wanna wait? Or, I dunno, stay close to Insomnia for starters?’

Noct had been watching them quietly, studying Prompto’s expression with a thoughtful frown.

‘Why?’, he finally asked. His voice was calm, it sounded genuinely curious. ‘Why do you want to do it? You don’t have to prove anything.’

‘I know.’ Prompto answered. He had prepared for that question, and he had thought about it a long time. ‘But I don‘t think a month more or less would do much of a difference. I won’t sit around in the city for the rest of my life, so why not start now?’ He took a deep breath. He was kinda nervous – about what the others would think, if they would approve. If he would be able to explain without stumbling over his own words.

‘I was thinking. What Varius said to me, about the Niffs here in Lucis. I know he just wanted to make me think twice before talking to anybody, but… he was right, you know? And maybe… maybe if we had put a bit more effort into relationships with the Niffs, we might have stumbled across those scientists earlier. Or maybe not - I don’t know. But I at least want to try. So I’m gonna go out and visit the refugee camps, check it out for myself. And maybe then we can do something. It probably won’t be perfect, but maybe it will be better.’

Noct listened, arms crossed in front of his chest. By the end, there was a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘Look at you, delivering profound speeches’, he teased. ‘…But you got a point.’

His smile faded and a frown took its place as he looked the blond over carefully. ‘You gonna be okay out there?’

Prompto gave him a bright grin. ‘Aww, you worried about little old me?’

‘You’re not?’

‘Nah, I’m-‘ He was about to say _fine_ , but he stopped himself. It wasn’t true. Not by a long shot. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want them to think he wasn’t up to the task, but…

‘I’m frickin’ terrified’, he confessed. ‘Even though I know that the risk out there isn’t bigger than in here; I still am. But I want to do this. And I got it all covered. I’ll meet up with Iris on the road, I won’t be out alone. I got this.’

He jumped a little when he suddenly felt arms wrapping around his shoulders, and then Noct pulled him into a hug. It lasted just a moment, then they separated again and there were soft lips on his, sweet and warm. Noct smiled against his skin. ‘I know you do.’

Then he pushed him away at arm’s length and gave him a glare. ‘You’ll call everyday and write as often as possible. If you don’t report in, I’ll personally come and drag your ass home.’

Prompto laughed, shaking his head. ‘All right, all right. Geez, I thought the role of mom was already taken by Iggy.’

Ignis pushed his visor up on his nose. ‘Though I don’t approve of Noct chasing after you across Lucis, the sentiment is very much shared. None of us wish to repeat the events from last time.’

‘You can say that again’, Gladio grumbled. ‘You scared us half to death.’ He paused, then heaved a big sigh. ‘Don’t listen to me, kid. You just do what you gotta.’

There was a warm tingle in his chest. He was still nervous – scared – but having his friends just roll along and knowing that they would be there even if it proved too much to handle… it would be alright. And that was good, because there was a shitload of work to do.

‘Yeah’, he said. ‘I’ll do that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feels. This game always gives me the feels... Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this!


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